


Get This One Right

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:01:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson, a British transplant to Seattle, is running late for his interview at one of the biggest law firms in the world. But if he mucks it up, fate is ready to give him another chance. And another one. And another...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes:  
> I do not own the real people or the fictional characters that I created based off the real people. I do not intend to make money off my work or offend anyone with my words. This is for pure entertainment purposes only.
> 
> This is my universe and how I see it. I believe writing should be enjoyed, not judged. I believe that adding the author's personality to the work is a good thing, so if my long run-on sentences are not for you, I am sorry.
> 
> My description of Seattle is not meant to be accurate, though I did live in Seattle for many years.
> 
> I speak a mix of British/American English, so my work reflects this, but I think it works in light of the setting.
> 
> So with this in mind, proceed with caution. This is long and detailed, but I hope you enjoy it!

Louis woke up with a sickening nervous feeling in his stomach and immediately grasped for the bed-side clock. Whatever instinct had woken him up was definitely spot on, albeit kicking in late. Because it was, in fact, way too late. It was 6:46 and he had meant to wake up by 5:30 in the morning, sharp. So what the fuck happened with the alarm? This was a very, very bad beginning.

Today, he was supposed to have an interview at a multi-million dollar law firm. He has been sending his resume and cover letters out for weeks and his eyes hurt from excessive computer use but it all had paid off when someone named Simon Cowell through his assistant offered Louis an interview at Modest & McGee, one of the most famous and biggest international law firms in the world. It had thousands of employees, offices in many European countries, so that maybe, just maybe Louis could eventually transfer back to England to be closer to home. Or move to Paris, the city of love. But even if he had to stay here, in Seattle, or move to New York, where the firm had a second, bigger office, that would have been fine with him. Working for Modest guaranteed a huge paycheck. And a huge paycheck guaranteed everything else. This interview was the opportunity of a lifetime.

He hurled himself out of bed, bare feet hitting cold hardwood floor instead of warm slippers. He nearly slipped and uncomfortably stretched his thigh, but managed to stay upright and frantically proceeded directly to the wardrobe to pull on a neatly ironed white shirt and well-fitting dark navy suit. At least he bothered to pre-iron his clothes the day before. "Fuck!" he screamed at himself, one foot socked, the other sockless, and rushed into the bathroom where he washed his face splashing cold water onto his dress shirt and stuffed a toothbrush into his mouth. With that he proceeded to shove a pre-made sandwich into his briefcase and reached for his phone, which was laying amidst the octopus-like multiplier. Ah yes, the fucking motherfucker. Was plugged into the charger alright, but the bloody charger was not plugged into the outlet. So naturally, the phone was dead. Well, that would explain the alarm debacle.

"This is great!" - hissed Louis as he frantically ran his left hand through his hair, fixing it as best as he could, whilst his right hand swirled the toothbrush in his mouth. Drawing blood, he cursed again, spat out, drank some water, checked himself out in the mirror one last time and with a loud groan flew out of his flat. 

The thing was, Louis could not function in the morning without some tea. And the fastest way to get it was to stop by the Starbucks right by the apartment complex. Although it was fairly busy on weekday mornings, the employees were usually fast. But maybe not today, because today the world has conspired against Louis. 

He stood in line for several minutes already, and the time was 7:15 and yes, it only took about ten minutes to walk from the coffee shop to the bus stop, but the bloody bus ran only every hour, so accidentally missing it was not an option. Louis started to sweat. The young girl right in front of him smelled very strongly of popular girly perfume, and Louis worried he would suffocate and faint if she did not move promptly away. A large bespectacled man dressed in a suit-and-tie directly behind him was on his iPhone, chewing someone out at an obnoxious volume about some "Grimshaw file" still not being there, and those were "the most important documents in this custody battle." A young mother promised hysterically crying four or five-year-old Jennifer that she could "have that scone only after the doctor, honey, because we just brushed your teeth." And Louis just wanted his fucking tea.

Finally, his name was called out and he grabbed the cup, but turning to leave the shop, he bumped into a guy waiting behind him, spilling his tea all over his own crispy white shirt. "Asshole!" - spat out Louis, unable to hold back - "Can you not see where you're standing?" Without looking at him and sputtering more profanity, he tugged at his shirt all the while moving to the door. At least his suit jacket was for the moment unbuttoned and could potentially be buttoned up to conceal the light brown stain.

He nearly ran to the bus stop, spilling some more of the boiling-hot tea over his fingers, cursing, hurting, close to tearing up or tearing his hair out. When he was finally at the stop, he couldn't even tell the time because his phone was out of battery, and had to ask a nearby standing woman. After finding out that it was 7:32, Louis started trembling violently and breathing fast. The bus number 23 that he planned to take was scheduled to leave promptly at 7:30 and so, has surely already left. Silently talking himself down as best as he could, Louis quickly figured out that if he took number 26 instead and transferred at the Delevigne plaza to 72, he could still probably make it. Pacing and slurping up what was left of his tea, Louis waited until 26 came at the scheduled time of 7:42. 

The bus stopped and Louis turned to dump his empty paper cup into the trash. By the time he turned back to climb onto the bus he noticed that the bus was quite full. A woman stepped out of the front door and the driver started to frantically waive his hands, yelling: "one more, just one more, bus full, bus full." But as Louis moved to the door, he was cut off by a short slender African-American male in overalls, who, screaming: "hold up, hold up", started climbing onto the steps. And Louis just saw red. 

"No way in bloody hell!" - he roared, as he pushed the scrawny bloke out of the way and stepped onto the stairs.  
"I got a job to get to, man!" - screamed the overalled guy, pulling on Louis's sleeve, - "I can't be late! That's my bus! That's my bus!"  
"It's my bus too" - smacked his hand away Louis and climbed all the way into the vehicle, - "and I got a job as well!" "And a more important one, than yours," he thought to himself, still sizzling with anger. The doors closed and the black guy just blinked at him with his big brown eyes, hands raised in defeat, mouth moving with either pleas or obscenity. And the bus moved along. 

But Louis was wrong. Or maybe luck was out to lunch for the whole day, because by the time 26 arrived to the Delevigne plaza transfer point, three minutes later than scheduled, 72 has already left. Louis paced impatiently, eyes glaring, hissing, trembling, ready to explode or maybe pass out. A 73 did come eventually, and since it followed essentially the same route, Louis sat on it, tapping his foot, tugging at his suit sleeves, playing with the end of his tie that he had to put on while still in line at the Starbucks. When the bus finally stopped at the 4th and Battery, Louis bolted out with such force that he nearly twisted his foot landing hard on the ground and began running in what he thought was the right direction. 

The problem was though, he did not exactly know how to get to the Modest's building. He looked at the map the night before, figuring it would be about a 15-20 minute walk but deciding, he would bring up the map on his iPhone and memorize the directions whilst on a nearly-1 hour long bus ride, but with the phone dead, he had no such option. He knew it had to be further up the road, on 15th and something, either Union or University, something starting with the "U." He walked fast, new uncomfortable shiny shoes digging into the sides of his feet, people bumping into him, here and there, their faces grey and gloomy in style with this usual springtime Seattle morning. 

When he was finally at 15th, he asked the time again. It was 9:20 and he was late and he still did not know where the building was. The office in Seattle was fairly new, buildings on 15th all stood tall and unmarked, and really, he didn't even know if he was close to Union or University or whatever fucking street the office was supposed to be on. He leaned on a tree embedded in the side walk and closed his eyes. It was over.  
And he was angry and tired and defeated and very, very hungry as he didn't get any breakfast. And as he started walking back, towards the place where he was dropped off by the 73, he hesitated between trying again, and trying to find the building maybe by 10, 11, whatever, or maybe going home instead and frantically composing an email, begging Cowell's assistant to reschedule the interview, or just maybe going to the nearby gas station and dragging home a full six pack, because why the hell not, or maybe just getting under the covers again in his cold dark flat and spending this entire bleary day there. It really didn't matter either way. But he did end up mostly laying under the covers.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis woke up in strange uneasiness and peeled his eyes open with hesitation. It was quite dark out still so it must have been very early. He groaned, because why the hell would he get up now, not that he had a job to go to, and the thought of sending out all those resumes again, now that employment with Modest & McGee was definitely out of the picture was making him cringe. He looked at the clock nonetheless, and 6:46 was what it said. Louis frowned slightly, because fuck, didn't he fucking wake up right around then just yesterday, "the day of the epic failure" as he thought to name it. The slimy feeling of embarrassment made its way to the bottom of his stomach and he buried his face in the pillow again, groaning and whimpering in turn. But now that his thoughts turned to the fiasco of the previous day, he couldn't even dream of going back to sleep. And yes, of course, he sent Cowell's assistant a pleading if not whiny email, and of course he waited glued to his inbox all day and of course, she has not responded. That's just how these things usually go, innit?

He cursed quietly and slung his feet from the bed, missing his slippers, hitting the freezing floor with a thud, and, getting up, he slipped, slightly pulling a muscle in his thigh and nearly flopping back onto the bed. "For fuck's sake" - he croaked, making his way barefoot into the kitchen and putting a kettle on in the darkness. He has been living alone in this small studio flat for nearly two years and could find anything he needed with eyes closed. He just stood there as the water was warming up, hands around his body, eyes closed, rocking back and forth, shivering, but not bothering to go fetch a bathrobe from the washroom. When the water was ready, he flopped the tea bag into the cup, his favourite one of the three that he owned, poured the water, added a touch of milk and exactly four ice cubes. This way, he wouldn't have to wait for it to cool down.

He climbed back into his bed, pulled on his laptop, opened it and carefully situated his tea cup on its edge. He's done it hundreds of times and knew exactly how to move so as not to spill it. The laptop quickly lit up, welcomed him and showed the internet page still pulled up from last night. That was his email inbox, he always left it up. No new messages were in the inbox, nothing from Modest &McGee, but of course, why would there be if he last checked it at midnight the night before. He thought he might as well answer his mother, whose message he saw there yesterday afternoon whilst he was definitely not in the mood for a friendly casual conversation. The message was missing from his inbox. 

Louis frowned. The last message in the inbox that was still there arrived at 22:12 of Thursday, April 28, some stupid paypal statement, but there was nothing after that, nothing from Friday, April 29th, the day of his epic fiasco. There wasn't a Youtube digest, that he vaguely remembered staring at last night, no Express advertisement which he happened to remember quite well - fuck, some of those dressy shirts were rather lovely, he thought half-heartedly, if he had a place to wear them to, if he fucking had a job. He clicked immediately on his outbox and froze in shock. His apologetic and hopeful email to Cowell's assistant was also missing. He felt his blood go cold as he frantically clicked and scrolled and clicked again, but the message was nowhere to be found. He thought immediately to type it again, so it will be there when she gets to work in the morning when his eyes fell onto the clock in the lower right hand side of the laptop screen. 7:08, it said. Friday, April 29th.

"What the fuck?" - frowned Louis as he clicked on the clock again. Has it glitched up or the programme got corrupted? Lou was very good with technology, so he quickly checked the system and did not find anything wrong. "The phone" - a thought crossed his mind immediately and he rushed to the kitchen counter where he vaguely remembered placing the phone and plugging in the charger, right next to the toaster. The phone wasn't there.

Louis shook his head in disbelief, decidedly proceeding to turn on the lights. Looking around, he squinted, hunting for the white iPhone. He noticed it by the multiplier on the floor near all of his computer cords. The cord was attached to the phone. It was not, however, connected to the outlet.

Louis' skin got populated by goosebumps as he went to pick the phone up gently, as though it were made out of the most expensive china. He turned it over. The phone was dead.

Louis proceeded to sit on the bed, hastily removing the untouched tea to the nightstand as he shivered uncontrollably. He picked up the remote instead and turned on the telly, looking for one thing only. And soon he found it. The telly seemed to agree with his laptop. It also professed Friday, April 29th.

"Okay" - Louis started to vigorously rub his temples, - "there are only so many explanations to what is going on. So... first one, some major fuck up with the electronics, the date glitched up and failed to change.... Um... Second... well, I could have dreamt up the whole deal with the buses yesterday, however vivid it seemed. Third, I suppose, it could have been... well... it could have been Thursday yesterday and I mistakenly thought it was Friday and went in for the interview, although that could not account for the phone and the absence of emails... so those are my options... and I think the second one sounds about right." Louis clapped his hands together, agreeing with himself. He did not let his mind wander to the fourth option. He fought it tooth and nail. Because those things happened in the good old sci-fi movies and maybe old X files episodes, and no, in no fucking way, can this be anything similar or even close to... And here he wanted to say premonition except it seemed weird, not how he would expect premonition to happen, but premonition was way more acceptable than what was truly on the tip of his tongue. Because that option would conclusively mean that he, Louis William Tomlinson, has gone completely insane.

The first thing he did though, was check on the internet and become fully convinced that it was, in fact, Friday. Tweets seemed to agree, as did facebook updates, as did the radio, to which he would never ordinarily pay any attention. As baffled as he was about the ordeal of seemingly re-living this day, he became more and more upset with the fact, that he was, in fact, still missing the interview as he was sitting half-clothed in his studio, an hour away from Seattle, whilst Cowell was probably frowning at the clock or his assistant in his office. He couldn't very well call as his phone was still dead from the night before (though he was nearly sure that he left it plugged in on the kitchen counter, well, that is, in his dream or whatever it was), so he sent an email, lying away but begging for a second chance nonetheless. By noon, he walked down to Starbucks to get a pastry, where, pretending to yawn and stretch out his back, he asked the barista what day of the week it was. "Oh, Friday! April 29th in fact", - chirped the blondie, thrusting an apple muffin at him. Louis thanked her half-heartedly and left. 

When he returned to his laptop a few minutes later, he found an email from his mother in his inbox. He froze momentarily, going into tachycardic frenzy, but clicked and opened it anyway, and he'll be damned if he didn't know in advance, nearly word for word what it was going to say. He closed it, rubbing his eyes, his whole face, shut his laptop and crawled back into bed. He felt drained and confused, and he tossed and turned until eventually falling into light, unrestful sleep. He slept without dreams and woke up by about 16:00, jumping to his laptop again. Nothing from Modest came but there was an advertisement from Express, offering him colourful dressy shirts, buy one, get one free. Louis shivered and went to make a cup of tea. He sat and stared at the screen with idiotic persistence, flicking between Youtube videos, songs on iTunes, tweets, facebook, tumblr, whatever. Until another email came at 20:33. It was just a Youtube digest. Louis closed his laptop. Vaguely noticing that he ate nothing but a pastry all day, not even his pre-made sandwich that was still in the fridge, despite him packing it into his briefcase the day before (or in his dream supposedly). He plugged his phone to charge by the toaster and shoved two sleeping pills into his mouth before falling back into bed. Vague shadows haunted him in the darkness of his half-empty studio before he succumbed to the inevitable action of the medicines.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis did not wake up suddenly, but at the moment he found himself slowly seeping into reality, he pried his eyes open and not bothering to look, clumsily reached out for the bed-side clock. He felt the needles of fear in his stomach and he squeezed his eyes shut before daring to look. And when he did find the courage to look, he nearly gasped. It was, after all, 6:46.

Feeling sick, groggy and discombobulated, he lowered his feet to the ground, missed the slippers, got up, rocking forward and slipping, feeling a somehow familiar burn in his right thigh and heading straight for the kitchen counter. The iPhone was not on it, of course, but the snow-white case was visible among the tangle of cords by the multiplier on the floor. Louis did not bother to check it. 

He chose to ignore all of it instead, proceeding like he would have, had it been any other day, except for perhaps momentarily pausing to check on his laptop, that it was still in fact Friday, April 29th, and that no message from his mum, Express advert or Youtube digest were in his box. He grabbed his sandwich, got dressed, brushed his teeth, slung his tie around his neck and left the flat, going to Starbucks on autopilot. His vision swam a little as a young mother tried to pacify her screaming little girl, an overweight gentleman screamed at his colleague for losing the Grimshaw folder and the young girl in front of him, like a scared skunk, furiously emanated suffocatingly sweet "Juicy couture" scent. Louis wasn't even all that taken aback when he was blindsided by the bloke behind him after he picked up his tea, sloshing hot liquid all over his shirt. He still cursed out loud though, not worrying too much about the presence in the shop of a youngster, and carelessly slammed the lad with his elbow. 

And he was late to the bus stop, again, and again, a scrawny black man tried to hop in front of him on the over-crowded 26, and again, Louis pushed him out of the way. And 72 has already departed the transfer point, and fucking fucking fucking again, Louis did not know how the hell to get from 15th and Battery to wherever the hell Modest was supposed to be situated, because never, never in the fucking hell did he expect that all of this would have to happen again. He sat on a bench at the bus stop, going home, and allowed two tears to escape his eyes before wiping them off and sighing with his whole body. 

When he got home he allowed himself to send yet another (is it his third one now?) email to Cowell's assistant and look up some telltale signs of deja vu on the internet. But nothing, nothing that he read described what was happening to him and how every detail of his morning seemed to repeat, repeat fucking perfectly. 

He did not call his mum or what few of the friends he had in the United States, sick with fear as to what explanation for his experiences they might offer. He was not ready for that. Instead he ate - forced himself to eat - that same sandwich that he packed into his briefcase. He put his phone on charger, did not bother to read the message from his mum, and stared into the telly mindlessly before falling asleep just like that, in his stained dressy shirt, telly still on.

When he woke up at 6:46 on the next day, Louis cried out. He cried out loud and continued to howl as he grabbed his dead phone off the floor and went to the toilet. He got dressed into that same white shirt, now clean of course, same navy blue suit, grabbed the same sandwich, that he supposedly ate the night before and, almost forgetting his tie and looking like a disheveled hedgehog, trotted to the bus stop. He decided to skip Starbucks though, so as to try to not miss his bus. 

He got to the stop by 7:20, put on his tie, pulled out and opened the ziplock containing his sandwich and bit off a small piece. His hands trembled, head felt big and heavy and he yawned, mouth dry, eyes red and scratchy. He paced, imbibing the cold April morning, its freshness and gloom and apathy. But 7:30 came and went, and 23 did not show up. 26 did however, and Louis, with now familiar motions, shoved the overalled pest aside and got on. He wanted to ask someone for an iPhone to find the address and google the directions to Modest, but those few eyes that were trained on him status-post kicking a tiny black dude off the bus, were full of ice and disdain. 

He waited until getting onto 73, where his reputation of a pissy brat was not so well-known and an iPhone was lent to him. He found Modest's exact address from his email, memorized it as best as he could and quickly looked up the directions. The directions promised him a 25 minute walk, but what the hell, he was Louis fucking Tomlinson and he could fucking walk fast. So he tried.

He tried but he overestimated his abilities and he arrived late, panting like a dog, sweating heavily despite the fresh cool of the morning and he thought of going in and trying to find this Simon dude's office but then that thought, that crazy fucking thought, of "what the hell? Can't I do this.... fucking..... OVER AGAIN tomorrow?" entered his brain, and he turned on his heels and he walked away, crestfallen and curious, confused, and scared, and intrigued.

He didn't bother checking his email or plugging his phone in. He did however, thoroughly look up the directions and memorize the address of Modest. He thought of writing it on paper and leaving it on the nightstand, but decided against it because - what the hell, he left his phone charging three fucking times and every time it was dead in the morning and he ATE his sandwich twice before and it was still in the fridge the next day. And so he hoped. Tonight, he was full of hope.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, he checked the clock almost disinterestedly and tranquilly, went to gather his stuff, dress, fix his hair, again deciding to take a chance at Starbucks tea. Young smelly girl was still getting her double mocha, obnoxious inconsiderate lawyer still barking up a storm about the damned Grimshaw file, but upon picking up his cup, Louis scooted swiftly to the side, as opposed to turning back and just barely felt the bloke's breath on the back of his neck. Well, seems like he got a hang of that one, at least.

He got on that 26, leaving the brokenhearted African American behind and got to 4th and Battery in the state of calm alike that of a tombstone. Here, he had a plan: he was going to catch a taxi. Taxying it out from his flat all the way to Seattle would not have been practical as buses have the privilege of the "3 or more" HOV lane, which would not have been available for his taxi, and actually move a lot faster in the mornings, but here, the idea of getting to the building quicker than on foot seemed plausible, at least. 

Only it didn't work out. The taxis did not seem to frequent this street at all, and he waited for over ten minutes without luck. Unfazed, he walked around then, bought a hotdog and enjoyed as much as one could enjoy a nasty grey April morning on a post-Thursday-hangover day in Seattle, Washington. He went home with a plan to find a way to borrow someone's phone in Starbucks and order a cab in advance. 

He woke up almost with joy and nodded in satisfaction at the familiar number pattern on the clock. Humming and smiling, half-dazed, half-exhilarated, he made his way to Starbucks. He looked around, huting for someone to lend him a phone until finally deciding on the smelly girl right in front of him, and he kept his eyes on her as he recited his order, then followed her to where she stood examining tea boxes. She agreed without hesitation, smiling sweetly, volunteering that she actually had a taxi company on speed dial. She unlocked her phone and gave it to him, he noticed briefly her name written in pretty white cursive font on the blue frosted background. "Eleanor" it said. "More like Smelleanor" - thought Louis immediately and smiled at himself, but she apparently thought that the grin was for her and returned it eagerly. His name got called out as he was ringing the taxi service and he let his cup stand and the girl picked up hers as she waited for him to finish his call. He thanked her, glad to rid himself of her phone, which also smelled sweetly and nauseatingly and, while picking up his tea, he noticed her looking at her phone, perhaps wondering if he had put his own number in it. He didn't.

He made it to the stop maybe two minutes later than on all the other days, and this time he noticed the African American, the one who will try to cut in front of him, sitting right on the ground, folded upon himself like a cat. Only now Louis noticed that the man had just a t-shirt on under his overalls, no jacket or sweater. He shivered visibly and Louis himself noticed the morning chill which was easier to handle of course, with that cup of nice English tea in his hands. He wondered where the man worked, whether he was a painter or a carpenter, definitely something manual judging by his rugged overalls. He wondered whether the man had to work outside in this prickly biting air. When 26 came, he watched the little man perk up and almost jump like a child, rushing towards the door, but standing aside courteously as a woman got off the bus. And Louis watched him climb in, chiming: "Hey Sam, how is it?" to the driver before touching his Orca card to the fare counter. The driver just nodded and the bus promptly left. And Louis remained on the bus stop. 

The thoughts of taxi came back to him and his brain started to turn slowly, processing the sudden change in the circumstances, identifying the new course of action in light of the missed number 26, but this activity was interrupted by the sounds of another upcoming bus. Louis almost gasped and nearly spilled what was left of his beverage when he noticed a bright green number 23 above the windshield. The bus was late, it was, full fifteen minutes, but it was half-empty, and it was a direct bus to Seattle. Still puzzled, Louis tossed his cup into the trash and quickly proceeded to climb in. He went towards the middle and plopped into an open seat next to a young darker skinned bloke. Louis breathed in and for a second just basked in sheer awe at the turn of events before he remembered that he needed to reroute the taxi, because this bus was going to drop him off in the other part of Seattle. 

Without hesitation, he turned to the sleepy young bloke next to him:

"Excuse me" - he started politely, - "but could I perhaps borrow your phone?"

"Hmm?" - woke up the lad next to him. His eyes fluttered open beneath obscenely long lashes.

"Uh, you see my phone was dead this morning" - went on to explain Louis, - "I need to reroute the taxi... could I maybe...?"

"Oh! Oh, Oh, yeah, yeah, of course" - stuttered the bloke, blinking sleepily and digging in his jeans for the phone. - "here" - he gave Louis the device.

Louis rang the taxi and returned the phone back to the bloke.

"Thank you very much" - he said, and the lad nodded and put it away, but didn't go back to sleep and sat, awkwardly staring ahead. Louis also just sat in silence, looking idly at the passengers. Finally his stomach growled furiously and he reached in his briefcase for the sandwich.

"Uh, hope you don't mind, I skipped breakfast" - he apologized quietly to his neighbour and the empty seat across the aisle from him, the bloke next to him nodding slightly. He looked sideways at Louis, then forward, then at Louis again. Louis, avoiding him, continued to study the other passengers. A young hispanic female was in the seat at the front, holding an elementary school child in her lap. An older gentleman was reading the paper. An older lady in an ugly fuchsia coat and a huge pink hat was staring disapprovingly at Louis from a sideways bench. "Yeah, yeah, eating is not allowed on buses, so sue me, fashion criminal" - he thought, continuing to chew. Two middle aged ladies, engaged in quiet conversation. Two younger, tall and lean males, one asleep, head leaning on the window, the other listening to music at a surprisingly respectful volume level. A younger guy with a huge backpack next to the pink-hatted lady, like Louis just studying the passengers. Catching Louis' gaze, the bloke immediately turned away. Two asian girls, straight out of a Manga book, both on their phones. And there were more behind, most likely sleeping or reading. It was, after all, a rather long ride.

"Uhm" - suddenly cleared his throat the bloke next to Louis.

Louis nearly choked but swallowed and shot him a quick curious glance. The lad was looking straight at him, gaze somewhat sheepish under the mile-long lashes.

"Uh... I'm.... Sorry, this is really daft, maybe" - he started, - "but uh... are you British?"

"Uh, yeah" - Louis responded confused. - "Yes, yes I am, from Doncaster."

"Oh" - the bloke nodded, - "Uh... it's that... I'm sorry, I just heard your accent. When you... well I mean.. I'm British too... from Bradford....uh.. well, obviously... I just..."

"Louis" - Louis wiped his hand on the seat and offered it to the lad.

"Z-zayn" - slightly hesitated from such directness the bloke, but Louis gave him such firm handshake that the lad seemed to relax. They fell into a second's silence.

"So you take the bus often?" - asked Louis offhandedly.

"Ah yes" - breathed out the lad, seemingly grateful to Louis for taking the lead - "every day. I work at a bookstore in downtown Seattle. Going on three years. Yes. Three of the six years since we moved from England."

Lou smiled: "Not much difference then, you reckon? England, Seattle?"

"Huh? Ohhh!" - laughed Zayn a little, "but of course, weather-wise! Yes, I would have preferred Florida, I think. Sun, ocean, beaches, that kinda thing! This is quite... quite.."

"Gloomy" - offered Louis, -"sorrowful? depressing? sad? weeping?"

"Weeping?" - laughed out loud the lad, and both the lady in the hideous coat and her neighbour turned to them with big eyes. Louis waved his hand dismissively, not sparing them another look: "Well, you get the point."

"Yeah, kinda," - agreed the lad, - "not that I see much of it anyway, spending my days in the bookstore and all. My dad owns it, so, I reckon, there's no way for me to ever get out of that one."

"Hm," - frowned Louis, - "and what would you like to do then?"

"Whoooah" - laughed Zayn quieter this time, - "not two minutes into the talk and you're asking me about the meaning of life?"

"Ah, everyone knows it's 42" - Louis bared his brilliant teeth in a charming smile.

"Hm," - Zayn pressed his lips together, moving the corners of his mouth downward and nodding his head in approval, - "so I see, you read... or watch, at least... the classics. Atta boy, atta boy... Well... since you ask... Actually, I don't know. I reckon I might like to do art. I might want to be a tattoo artist, I think."

"Oh," - nodded Louis, humorously, chewing, - "I like tattoos on other people. Not for myself though."

"Hah," - barked Zayn out quietly, - "I said that too, in the beginning. Now, look..." - he stuck his thin arm from underneath his leather jacket. A sleeve of seemingly unrelated tattoos populated his skin. 

"Very nice," - retorted Louis, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

"And what are you? Or rather, what do you want to be, since we're having a confession hour at 8 o'clock in the morning?"

"I'm a lawyer," - answered Louis flatly, - "I thought I wanted to be a rockstar or I don't know, something of the like, and well - hah, I do rock at karaoke, Katy Perry especially," - he smirked, - "But whatever, the legal profession pays well, and that's all that matters today, innit?"

"Don't know" - retorted Zayn and looked forward absent-mindedly. "Hey" - he suddenly cheered up, - "he's looking at you."

"Who?" - did not understand Louis, licking his fingers.

"That bloke at the front! Don't look, don't look!"

But Louis looked, of course: "Hah! I think he's looking at your hair. Or maybe at my sandwich!"

Zayn laughed and gingerly touched his wilted quiff: "Fucking Seattle! Nothing holds up in the rain, all goes to frizz!"

"Oh yeah" - agreed Louis eagerly, - "I try sometimes but not today. This is my bed hair!"

"Oh!" - smiled Zayn, - "impressive, I must say! It does look rather nice."

"Oh! Thanks, man" - Louis touched him on the arm.

"It's OK" - responded Zayn and both of them laughed. 

The conversation flowed naturally, and soon Louis started feeling that this lad had been there around him his whole life, that they have been friends for months, years maybe, these two completely different people, the straight-cut Louis in his suit-and-tie and this tattoo'ed spacey Zayn in his leather jacket and ripped jeans. He found out a little about Zayn's life in England, his life here in Seattle, his family, and told him a bit about himself. When they started approaching the first exit to Seattle, Louis shoved the rest of the sandwich back into the ziplock bag, and the bag into his briefcase. Zayn quickly grew quiet.

"Mine is not for awhile," - he said.

"Mine is this one," - Louis replied. Silence fell for a few more seconds.

"It was nice meeting you," - Zayn volunteered.

"Likewise," - Louis smiled.

The stop approached. Zayn breathed in sharply once, twice, then asked:

"Can I get your number maybe?"

Louis looked at him.

"Just for friends, yeah?" - continued Zayn, - "It's that.. I just... I don't have too many friends... oh, I mean from England... you know?"

"Oh!" - laughed Louis - "but of course! Hurry up then, I gotta run!"

Zayn whipped out his phone and Louis started dictating the numbers, last ones he had to yell, already exiting the bus. Zayn smiled and held one hand to his ear, the other in a thumbs-up signal. Only when he was out on the street already, Louis realized that his phone was still dead. And then he remembered...


	5. Chapter 5

He hated it when he remembered it of course, because one moment you carry on a nice conversation with a stranger-quickly-turned-friend and at another moment you find yourself in Seattle, one block away from 25th and Cumberland, where a taxi was waiting for you and you remember why you're here and just what has been going on. Yes, he had all the reasons in the world to be seething with hatred. 

He nearly forgot the Modest's address over the conversation with Zayn, but he drilled it into his head so many times the night before that it did come back to him as he got into the taxi. The driver nodded and Louis proceeded to tap his fingers on his knees, thinking about his out-of-battery phone and that he did not have Zayn's number and that even if he charged his phone this evening it was unlikely that Zayn would call or text him today, having just met and all, it would be weird, and so he would not have Zayn's number. And he also realized, the dopey idiot that he was, he did not find out the name of Zayn's bookstore and how the hell is he supposed to find him again in this rain - drenched city of gloom?

Louis sighed and wiped his face with his hands, attempting to focus on the situation at hand. He needed to get to the office of Modest & McGee. The situation on the road appeared to have a mind of its own, however. After hitting red light after red light, the taxi stopped completely in a traffic jam. "What is it?" - asked Louis the driver. "Don't know" - the driver shrugged. - "An accident maybe? This road is kinda busy this time a'day, the university being close and all, but shouldn't be this bad." Louis cringed. He was in a good mood after events of this morning took such an interesting turn and he really hoped to use his sunny disposition to his advantage during the interview with Cowell. The interview did not happen.

It did not happen because Louis got to the Modest's building even later by taxi than he estimated he would have on foot despite the fact that they supposedly had plenty of time, coming via direct bus and all. Louis was angry, but he wasn't too angry, because by now he expected to have another chance, he liked having another chance, and he really could use having another chance, because he discovered the existence of an artsy bookworm named Zayn, whose number he still planned to procure.

Louis went home and watched Grease, and it was Friday night and he really could have gone out, and really done anything, anything in the world, but this temporary insanity to which his life has been reduced has started to excite him in and of itself, and he mulled it over to near-exasperation, how he was going to talk to Zayn, how he would know the smelly girl's name and that her phone background is frosted blue with white cursive letters, all the while she would have no real reason even to notice him. And then his thoughts went back to Zayn, that maybe he could in fact just ask him out later in the day, for a drink or two, or a round of bowling and maybe this next Friday night he wouldn't have to spend all alone. 

So he woke up happy and exhilarated, quickly checked the clock - yes sir, all is well, and got on his merry way. He nearly petted little Jennifer on the head, poor child looked so desperate, begging her mother for a scone. He even complimented Smelleanor's perfume, being just the slightest bit disingenuous, and the girl burst in smiles like a posh firework. He did forget about the picking-up-the-tea part and did slam the poor bloke right into the ribs with his elbow, if just to make up for all the times his own tummy was scalded by hot liquid, and the lad doubled over and oomphed in pain, with that Louis smirked gleefully, and was off to the bus stop. He graciously let the black guy catch his 26, and while Louis was still waiting for the number 23 with Zayn he realized, he no longer needed Zayn's phone to ring and reroute the taxi, and hence Zayn would not hear his accent and figure out that Louis was also British and maybe they would not start talking. But Louis was a smart lad and the first thing he did upon climbing into the bus and slipping into the seat next to half-sleeping Zayn, was ask him for a phone to ring and request the taxi instead, the fact that he did not intend to actually ride in it secondary and irrelevant.

Zayn obliged and the conversation carried much like yesterday, Zayn saying many phrases nearly verbatim, such as the one about his hair and the uni kid staring at them. But Louis did ask other questions too, finding out more and more about his fellow countryman. And Louis did give out his number and did request Zayn's in return, this time earlier in the ride. He scrambled frantically for a pen, not finding one in his briefcase, resorted to attempting to memorize Zayn's number. He did also carefully inquire into the lad's probable whereabouts later this glorious Friday night, Zayn responding that he had a family function. 

When Louis got off the bus, he just walked the streets of Seattle. He couldn't get to Modest by taxi, he couldn't make it there in time on foot, and yes, he wished he had a bike, and he knew his neighbours had a bike, and he could ask them for it in the evening of course, and, of course, the next morning it wouldn't be there, because he didn't ask for it on the original Thursday night. So he sat in a tiny park, finishing up his sandwich, thinking about what he could do next.

And what he did for the next few Fridays was a lot of things. Most of them, he still attempted to get to the law office, mostly for the sake of talking to Zayn, some of them he stayed in bed and knocked around the apartment, went on walks, shopping, for a hike, to the movies, picked up playing the keyboard again. And all of this would be well and good, now that he had all the time in the world to do anything he wished, never getting old as the day repeated itself, but he hated it too. He hated that Zayn would not know who he was every Friday, that he still had to start out with boring introductory questions before getting to prod at the lad's inner soul, he hated that any progress he made in the computer games would be undone, and conversation with his mother forgotten by her, every meal he cooked since attempting to learn how to, not there in the morning. He could not move forward with life and he hated that. But also, he hated the uncertainty. And although he lived by now through no less than a month worth of Fridays, he never knew when the phenomenon might stop. And that meant that any of them could be his only chance to get to the interview at Modest.

And he did attempt to speak about what he now was sure to be some sort of a time loop, or however you call it, to a few people. His mother laughed, thinking he was surely joking, his best friend back in England advised him to get his cranium checked, but mostly, nobody believed him. Why would they? They couldn't remember that they lived this same fucking day 30 fucking times in a row now. And Louis knew he had to figure something out. While it never really got old to talk to Zayn in the mornings, revel in his stuttering speech as he tried desperately to befriend professional-looking Louis, Louis knew now how to find Zayn, even if he never had to meet him on the bus. He could always walk into Zayn's bookstore in Seattle and strike up a conversation, although no guarantees existed that it would go just as well, but why the fuck wouldn't it, if Zayn was still the same person he was on the bus? Louis could call him too, although he was sure that anyone hearing something like: "Hey, I know you think we've never met, only we did, about 10 times already whilst I was on my... Groundhog day!" was bound to disconnect right away.

And he had watched that famous movie of course, no less than a dozen times, and if he were to believe it, this all was going to stop when he finally figured out what it was that fate was after and accomplished it. And so, he thought. He thought hard. He could only think of the interview though, because that was the only thing he just couldn't manage to get to. And the funny thing was, he tried everything already, it seemed. He even attempted to stay overnight in Seattle, by the Modest building, trying not to fall asleep, only he did, every time, waking up in his own bed at 6:46 the next day.

And it was getting to him slowly. Same people in Starbucks. Screaming little girl. Eleanor assaulting him with perfume. Yelping lawyer. Stupid bloke behind him who he always had to be mindful of when picking up his tea. Same people on the bus stop. Oblivious Zayn. And yet it didn't seem there was another way to get to Seattle, other than via this damned 23. 


	6. Chapter 6

On one of the Fridays, Louis was talking with Zayn on the bus again, by now having to fake his interest, not that Zayn noticed, when something odd struck him. It grabbed his attention because Zayn seemed to actually look him straight in the eye, when he said: "Hey, he's looking at you." That was one phrase Louis never failed to hear. They could have been talking about football, Zayn's job, Louis' family, but every time, approximately as they were exiting onto the highway, Zayn acknowledged the uni student supposedly looking at Louis.

"He's probably looking at your hair" - retorted Louis as usual to this seemingly irrelevant remark, - "Or my sandwich."

And whilst Zayn was making his habitual quip about his hair, Lou did cast a quick glance at the bloke. He caught his stare and became amused. The bloke sure was looking at them. At Louis, to be precise. Or, to be more precise, at the sandwich in his hands. Louis asked Zayn then, if he knew him. But Zayn negated. 

It wasn't until two days later, still perplexed with Zayn's usual remark, that Louis got up from his seat and walked right over to the uni bloke. The lad's eyes turned to him sheepishly, with awkward hope, and he seemed tense and small and young in his trendy bright coat, grey sweatpants and bulky white shoes.

"Hey" - Louis greeted nonchalantly.

"Hi" - replied the bloke quietly. 

"You were..." - Louis waived his hand, unsure of how to continue. The bloke kept silent, eyes down.

"I'm Louis" - restarted Louis and stuck his hand out.

"Niall" - the bloke lifted his blue eyes up again. His look was so honest, so open, so weirdly... accepting, that Louis couldn't prevent himself from smiling widely. 

"Are you...? It's just that I noticed you looking kind of like..." - Louis nearly laughed at the lad gluing his gaze back to the floor, half-smile still tinting his lips, -"Anyway, would you like this half of my sandwich? I haven't touched it yet, and I'm not very hungry. I know they always taught us to never take food from strangers, but hey, what's taking a bit of risk once in awhile? That one over there" - he turned to Zayn who smiled and waved a hand at them,- "Can assure you I have no gains in poisoning you!"

"Thanks" - responded Niall with hesitation after a moment, - "to be honest, yes, I am indeed starving. I think that maybe if I died of hunger or poisoning later on in this ride, there wouldn't be much of a difference now, would there?"

Louis laughed and Niall's whole face lit up and he took the sandwich and started to stuff it into his mouth with commendable speed. The lady in offensive fuchsia coat rolled her eyes and snorted. Louis sat on the sideways bench opposite Niall. He smiled as Niall chewed furiously, taking gulps here and there from the water bottle that he extracted from his backpack pocket. Then something struck Louis.

"You are.... you're not American, are you?" - the words spilled out of his mouth.

Niall shook his head, attempting to chew through another huge bite.

"You're.. Scottish, is it? I thought I heard a bit of an accent."

"Nmmhh" - shook his head with fervour the blond lad. - "Irish" - he said after swallowing. 

"How long have you been here?" - Louis asked.

"Since autumn" - Niall retorted wiping his mouth. - "I am an exchange student through a uni programme."

"What are you studying?"- asked Louis with genuine interest, taking in the cozy appearance of the Irish bloke.

"Architecture" - he said with obvious pride, wide smile showing off perfect white teeth, and Louis almost laughed, because the lad looked so sincere, so warm, so comfy and somehow familiar, and hell, he would be, sitting on that bus, staring at Louis for a month worth of Fridays in a row. 

"And you like it?"

"I like it here!" - Niall yelped, - "I don't like it back in Ireland. I like this place! There's stuff to do, people to hang out with... I don't know, maybe I just like this little bit of change."

Louis nodded.

"And your family? You miss them?"

"A little" - Niall agreed, - "But I just focus on enjoying my new friends, you know? America is so.... huge" - he waived his hand bumping it into the fashion criminal next to him, who was instantly scandalized. - "Since coming here in September, I've visited California, Chicago, Florida, DC, Las Vegas, Tennessee, New York"- he kept counting on his fingers, - "well, Oregon, of course...."

"I haven't" - blurted Louis out unexpectedly.

"What?" - lifted his eyebrows up the bloke.

"Visited anything. I mean, Oregon, yeah, once... but.. nothing else."

"When did you come here?" - wondered Niall.

"Couple years ago. To do an LLM programme... that's so I can practice law in the United States" - he explained, noticing Niall's confused stare, - "then I just stayed and worked."

"Oh" - was the only thing that came from Niall as he deflated.

"Guess I was just too busy for it. Too freaking busy making money."

Niall nodded. 

"But money's what gets you the plane tickets and a hotel room, eh?" Louis continued, smiling weakly, - "It is what it is, innit?"

Niall just looked at him and asked instead: "So where you work now, eh?"

"Ah" - Louis laughed a bit bitterly, - "well, nowhere right now. I'm on my way to an interview in fact. Only I won't get there."

"No?" - widened his eyes Niall.

"No" - Louis agreed, remembering to be careful lest he wanted to come off as a right lunatic, - "this bus was late, and I will be late because it's like a twenty minute walk and the street is too crowded to take a taxi. I could try to walk the distance, only I'll be late anyway."

"Is that so important to be on time?" - Niall looked at him questioningly, - "I'm always late for uni, but who cares. I usually sleep through the first class anyway. Well, today I won't, cause we have an exam. Which by the way, I totally would have failed if I tried to take it on an empty stomach. So thanks mate, I appreciate it. I overslept today and didn't eat me breakfast."

"Oh sure" - waived Louis his hand. - "I also overslept, otherwise, I would have taken an earlier bus. My phone died overnight and didn't wake me up. But to answer your question, yes, this company is huge and their policies strict. They have plenty of candidates, and most likely very small interview slots for each one. Besides, first impressions are everything, aren't they?"

Niall shrugged: "Don't know."

They sat in silence.

"So what will you do then? Once you get there... and can't make it?"

"Uh, walk around?" - Louis sighed.

"Uh huh" - Niall nodded, looking down again. And suddenly his eye brows went up, his face brightened and he looked Louis straight in the eye, mouth half-open, smiling.

"Mate" - he said, - "mate... uh.. I got an idea... Haha, it might seem crazy, but.... do you skateboard?"

"W-what?" - stammered out Louis, - "Why, yes, yes I did... back in England...."

"Still know how to?" - jingled Niall in excitement.

"Well, yeah, how do you ever forget that?" - retorted Louis, amused.

"I have a perfect solution for you then!" - Niall yelped and bent over to his backpack. Only now Louis noticed a skateboard hooked through its straps.

"You don't... are you gonna..."

"Why not?" - Niall chirped, smiling widely, - "Sounds like this interview is pretty important for ya. And on this thing, you'll make it there way faster than on your own two feet."

"Uh yeah" - said Louis, hesitating, gingerly taking a rough board from Niall's hands, - "I'll look rightly stupid riding it in my suit and tie, too."

"Who cares?" - made a face his new friend, - "you need to get there, fast, am I right? So take it and use it and call me later and I'll get it back from you, easy as pie."

"Y-you really would?" - stuttered Louis, - "lend your skateboard? to a stranger? on a bus?"

"Why, yeah" - nodded Niall eagerly, - "after all, you did lend me your sandwich, didn't you? And I am still alive and feel rather well, thus I think, it's only fair! So? What do you say?"

"I say "thank you!'", - Louis replied still in utter disbelief at this brand new turn of events. 

"So what's your number?" - Niall asked, getting out his phone, - "and no funnies, this thing is worth more to me than that sandwich!"

Louis laughed and gave him his number. He also asked Niall for his, but remembering his own dead iPhone, deflated. 

"Oh, I got a piece of paper in here" - Niall volunteered, ripping a sheet out of his notebook. He pulled a pen out and jotted down his number, - "We will just do this the old school way!"

And they moved swiftly from there, Louis basking in the chirpiness and sunshine of Niall's attitude on this ugly April morning. He bubbled eagerly, talking a mile a minute about his trip to Vegas, meeting Schwarzenegger in Hollywood, going atop the statue of Liberty, touring Graceland and million other things that he's done in the short few months in America. He overflowed with information and energy, flailing his arms, tiny saliva particles flying evreywhere, causing the fuchsia-clad woman to scoot as far to her end of the bench as she could. 

And Louis didn't want to leave when it was time for him to go, Niall still going on eagerly, barely able to shut up as the bus pulled up to the stop. And they promised to text, and of course they would, and it was only after getting off the bus that Louis realized that not only had he ignored Zayn, left behind in his seat in the middle of the bus, but also his own briefcase on the seat next to Zayn's. 

Lou cursed, optimistic mood vanishing. Niall's skateboard was useless if he couldn't even produce his resume and diplomas at the interview. He wasn't going to bother to chase the bus, or even find a way to call up the public transportation, not if his wallet was still in the back pocket of his trousers, which it was. The keys were in the briefcase, but who cares if he could sit on the pier, or just fucking buy himself a sweatshirt and some sneakers, and just knock around Seattle and watch a movie or anything really, since none of it mattered in the slightest if this day was going repeat tomorrow. So Louis did, spending the last of the night at a bar, wasted to shreds, head spinning with music, with thoughts of Zayn, Niall, and his mother and sisters, and how it fucking didn't even matter that he couldn't get home or that his phone was dead, because apart from the two new friends and his family in England, he could not think of anyone to call up anyway. He hoped to God he would wake up in his bed tomorrow as he was dropped off in front of his apartment building by the taxi, barely having a drop of consciousness about him to climb up the stairs, and passed out beside his front door.


	7. Chapter 7

And he did, thank God, he did wake up in his own bed, at his usual time and he all but glowed his happiness because by now he was becoming more and more convinced that it had to be the interview with Modest that he needed to pass and get out of the way for this loopetty-loop to be broken, seeing how, slowly, fate was providing him with the means to do it. And the funny thing is, they have been there all along, haven't they? Zayn has always been on that 23 behind him whilst he was trying so hard to push the black dude off the 26. Zayn always pointed Niall out to him, every time, and Niall has always sat there on a sideways bench looking hungrily at Louis' sandwich, skateboard always in his backpack. All it took was for Louis to see.

So Louis was happy now, dressing in haste, not bothering to look for a pen - Niall would have it - but making sure to pack the sandwich in (funny how his stomach always grumbled on that bus and prompted him to eat it), and he put sneakers on his feet this time, stuffing his dressy shoes into a grocery bag, bag sliding neatly into his briefcase. All of these machinations must have taken slightly longer than usual because he ended up behind both the lawyer and Smelleanor, instead of in-between them. Apparently, the minute's difference was not enough though to move the spaced out bloke behind him by the counter as, having picked up his tea, he turned and rammed his forehead into the lad's neck, spilling hot liquid on both of them, forcing the bloke to alternate between fits of cough and screams of pain as Louis called him an asshole for the countless time, shrieking in pain, before exiting the shop.

And by the time he was at the bus stop, stomach burning with spilt tea, he had a clear plan in his head. He would wait until Zayn says his key phrase about Niall, at which point he will go over and feed the poor college kid, but he will remember this time to waive his hand and invite Zayn to join them. And he did. And it went swimmingly. 

Zayn did hesitate quite a bit before moving closer to the front, hooking himself around the pole by Niall and Louis, and he did keep quiet most of the ride, but still provided his number to both of them to be typed into Niall's phone and scrambled onto a sheet of paper from the Irish lad's notebook for Louis. 

Lou exited the bus in near-ecstasy, only wishing he could keep them both, that both of them would get in on his time loop so that they could all hang out comfortably on the Friday nights that he invariably kept having to himself. In the same chirpy mood, with a silly smile on his face he proceeded to ignore the taxi waiting for him at 24th and Cumberland, swung his briefcase onto his back by its long strap and, gingerly placing Niall's skateboard on the ground, set off in the direction of the Modest's office. 

It truly felt great. It felt wonderful, cool springtime air hitting his face, smelling of salt and rain, that fresh, unmarred, natural smell that he only noticed once before, on a leisurely trip to a Scottish seashore. He was genuinely happy, and excited, because this was now, this was today, that he met who he could wish with eagerness and desperate hope to become his new best friends and damn, he was going to ace this bloody interview!

Lou arrived to the building that he now knew to be the right one, though it was tall and unmarked like the others around it. It stood several stories high, something like "n" shaped, windows reflecting the cloud-clad sky. He was early, thank God, not too early, just some five-seven minutes, but he wasn't late, damn it, and that was all he could get, that was the best he could get in this fucked up situation, having overslept on this very important day.

He got off the skateboard and passed through the glass doors, briefly skimming over the faces of the passers-by. The lobby was neat and spacious, several elevators lining up the walls. He was quite surprised at the lack of security but the building was still in the last stages of construction, half the lobby separated by a thin sheet of wood and he wasn't sure how many of the offices were already occupied. He did remember the suite number, it was 202, so he pressed on a number 2 having entered the elevator with several other people, and he tried not to shake with nervous tension in expectation of the interview. He noticed a few odd looks at his skateboard and felt a bit self-conscious about it for a second, but he hid it behind his back and looked down.

He exited on the second floor, and clutching the skateboard to his side, started searching for the office. The place was unusually bare, strict white walls, doors solid and equipped with ID-recognition devices. There was nothing to indicate which door belonged to Modest as the doors did not have any numbers. Well no, one did, Louis did find a door with a glass 201 tablet next to it, but that was the only one on the whole floor. Realizing that time could not wait, he banged on it. Nobody responded so he banged again and again but to no avail. He stood there puzzled, muscles tense, brain working frantically, rehashing his entrance, wondering if he could after all this time have walked into the wrong building, and dammit no, he didn't, this had to be it. And the suite number 202, he remembered it clearly like he could still pull up Cowell's assistant Caroline's email in his head. Finding no other solution but to head down, he did.

And there he sized up the problem. He could ask for help of course, five people were standing by the elevator, but what if all or even one of them worked for Modest? Louis would certainly look like a right idiot, a little boy unable to find an office for his interview. Hell, one of these people could be Cowell himself, not like Louis knew who he was, or what this Caroline, Cowell's assistant looked like. That dark-haired tall man could be Cowell, and that skinny red-headed young lady could be Caroline, for all he knew. So no, of course, he couldn't do that, so he entered the next elevator, went up to the second floor again, walked around staring at the single numbered door, then rode up to the third floor only to find a completely different layout with glass doors and a huge "Summit insurance, Inc." on a wall next to them, but the doors were still locked with no sign of a receptionist. He rode up to the fourth floor then, that floor looking somewhat similar to the second, white doors littering the walls. Louis knocked on one of them and a pretty African American female answered, holding the door with her hand but not letting him in, into what appeared like a huge room full of cubicles behind her. 

"I'm sorry" - started Louis awkwardly and instantly slapped himself in his head for failing to greet her, - "I am looking for suite 202... It should be here in this building, I just could not..."

"Well, it isn't here" - unexpectedly rudely cut him off the woman, - "you got the wrong floor."

"I-I know" - stammered Louis, feeling the blood rush into his head, - "I cannot find their office, it said, suite 202, but that floor seems rightly empty to me..."

"Suite 202?" - frowned the female, tone remaining cold and biting, - "hm, I don't know, sweetheart, but you're gonna have to find it on your own, we're busy here this morning. There are many companies here, some are still moving in, it's a brand new building, you see. I don't even know who's directly below us."

"Summit insurance" - blurted Lou out and bit his tongue.

"Hm" - the female grunted unamused, - "I gotta go now. Just call whoever contacted you and get some directions."

She slammed the door in his face so suddenly that Louis almost fell backwards. Yes, he would call them, maybe if his phone was alive and maybe he could borrow someone's phone if he could actually remember Caroline's number and extension, because all he thought to memorize was their address. And dammit, this building was huge, it had to have at least fifteen floors, two of the parts of the "n" were definitely populated, and who knows just where the new office of Modest & McGee was located in this monster!

He walked back out of the building, skateboard scraping on the ground defeatedly. He hadn't expected this, dammit, he was so ready for this to be over; now that everything was going to perfectly, how could it go so wrong? And he chastised himself in his thoughts for not bothering to enter the building earlier and to hunt for the damned suite 202 in advance, on one of those afternoons where all he did was amble through Seattle dejectedly.

And people passed him by, stone-faced, apathetic, most of them in, a couple out, of the building, a few in a diagonal line to the door in the other wing of the "n" or to the neighbouring skyscraper. Any one of them could be from Modest and any one of them could rudely tell him off like the nameless African American girl from the nameless company on the fourth floor. And Louis was not ready to deal with that.

So he went home, exhausted and angry with himself because how, how in the fucking wide world, in the whole month of Fridays on which he couldn't get to the building on time, did he not manage to hunt for the suite later on in case of an odd occurrence, that one day, he would find a way to be punctual? And maybe he should have hunted for it today, but he was sick of loads of looks he was getting from professionally dressed people going up and down elevators as he loitered around, clutching the skateboard and looking like a mighty loon. And yes, maybe he could step on the throat of his pride and start riding up and down the elevator too, looking for the suite, but if nearly all of the fucking doors in this yet unfinished building were unnamed and unnumbered, how would he find the damned room? And if he did, well, surely Cowell would not have waited for him, hell, he probably allotted him some meager fifteen minutes of his time before moving onto another eagerly waiting ambitious candidate.

He flopped Niall's skateboard right on his bed and climbed in it in all his dressy clothes but not before fetching a whole carton of apple juice from the fridge. He thought of emailing Caroline and asking her about the location of the suite, but of course her response would not be there in the morning because it will be another Friday, all over again. And what if he emailed her tomorrow morning, at 7, before heading out for Seattle? Louis considered that for a second before giving up on the idea as well. How likely was it that Caroline would in fact get his email before 9, the time of his interview? And was Caroline in office, or rather, was Caroline going to be in office on Friday the 29th if she never responded to his emails on all those days, on which he sent them after coming home?

He twisted and turned in bed, texted Niall about the skateboard - Niall refused to come over saying he was at some goodbye party but was very eager to hang out on Saturday, if Louis wanted, and damn right Louis wanted, Louis wanted to see anyone, Niall, Zayn, his mother, his fucking neighbour maybe and just fucking talk to someone and ask, what the hell he was supposed to do and to just whine and even cry a little, maybe, because he was so bloody sick of the Fridays.


	8. Chapter 8

He went through his morning routine with seething anger, nearly falling over his feet whilst pulling his trousers on, barely remembering the sandwich he was going to use to lure Niall, making his way to Starbucks, hissing: "Could you please speak quieter!" to the rambunctious lawyer and nearly throwing himself into the bloke behind him, making sure to dump most of his tea onto his black t-shirt, hiding a malicious grin as the dude cried out in pain. 

He had an urge to mess with the scrawny black carpenter too, just for the sake of it, but decided against it and he barely had it in him to begin conversing all over with Zayn, asking him for the phone, waiting for him to bring up Niall, but it was Niall with his innocent smile, his silky-soft look in his eyes, his sincere happiness as he stuffed what was now almost all of Louis' sandwich into his mouth, Louis having previously broken off just one little piece, that finally brought the corners of Lou's mouth up. And so he asked them both then, careful to choose his words, about what he should do, should he not be able to find a suite in a newly-built building. 

"Why, you ask someone!" - stated Niall the obvious, - "I mean, aren't there folks coming in and out? Ask them where the suite should be."

"I would" - Louis retorted, - "but I happen to know that half of the doors are unmarked and most people don't even know which company occupies which floor."

"Well, it's quite simple" - quietly offered Zayn, - "then you ask them if they are from that law office!"

And that was it, of course, Louis knew it already that he could do that, couldn't he, except he would look mighty stupid, walking up to random professionals in front of the building, asking them if they work for one of the biggest law firms in the world. He sighed as he stepped off Niall's skateboard in front of the building, gawking around self-consciously, procrastinating one more second, and started his quest. 

There were loads of people. First, he attempted calling Caroline, of course, with a phone borrowed from a stranger. Not surprisingly, she did not pick up. Then he tried to hunt for the most likely targets by their line of walk, walking up to only those who went straight for the main door. It was hard at first, he was acutely aware of his stupid appearance in a suit and sneakers, briefcase slung over his shoulder and a beat-up skateboard against his thigh. And some were nice, scratched their heads, agreed that they definitely heard of Modest, but completely unaware that it should have an office in Seattle, much more in this very building. Others just gave him a sideways glance and walked away. 

By 10:30 Louis was exhausted, having once again ridden up and down the elevator, searched the entire building like a police dog and come up empty. It pissed him off mightily and he banged Niall's skateboard on the sidewalk, nearly splitting it, but it didn't matter, nothing fucking mattered, because here he was, in the fucking building, and he couldn't find the damned suite, and just what the fuck was going on, and how was he to solve this fucking riddle?

He went home and flopped himself down on the bed in exhaustion, stared straight up at the ceiling for a couple hours, then went ahead to send a flurry of rude emails to Caroline, because who the fuck cares, they won't be there in the morning, before trashing his entire apartment and collapsing back on the bed in sobs. Something had to give, something fucking had to give!

He stayed at home for the next couple of Fridays, just gathering his thoughts, resting, doing a couple of exercises in French - he picked that up again since the time loop thing started and was getting quite good, watching silly old movies, careful not to give in the urge to text Zayn, whose number he memorized over the multitude of times it was given to him, because Zayn wouldn't know him now, would he, if he never met him on that damned bus? Lou did consider a couple of times just taking the bus to Seattle later in the day to visit Zayn's bookstore and see if he could add variety to the situation by befriending him there, only he couldn't stand to ride that bloody bus and couldn't stand to see fucking Seattle one more goddamn time. 

But the Fridays didn't stop coming and Louis slowly came to terms with the fact that he would have to deal with the situation and solve the riddle if he wanted to maintain what was left of his inevitably disappearing sanity. If - if solving the riddle would actually end the Fridays.

So he went through the motions with the last bits of energy left, going to Starbucks, riding the bus, skating to the building and asking what by now felt like hundreds of people about the location of Modest. It all started to seem like a crude joke - what if the whole thing was a sham, an evil game played by a deranged maniac who thought himself God, and maybe Modest didn't even have an office in Seattle, nothing was on their website about it anyway, although should it have been considering that the office has just opened? And Lou thought long and hard about which variables he could change to bring on another clue to the riddle, having it down cold by now that nothing on this day would change unless he himself changed the course of his actions.


	9. Chapter 9

Today marked about 45th or even 50th Friday since the ordeal started and Lou felt as apathetic and drained as ever. He wasn't even awake, he reckoned, whilst dressing and brushing his teeth in the morning, but he did smile tiredly at crying Jennifer in Starbucks, little girl hiccupping and shutting up for a full half-a-minute. He complimented Eleanor on her jacket, the girl smiling ear to ear and turning her gaze to the floor. He also bought several pastries and shoved them in his briefcase - mostly to give out to Niall and Zayn, and he moved gingerly to avoid spilling his tea. 

And he enjoyed their conversation on the bus as much as he could, most of it so well known to him that he fought an urge to cringe. But Niall was kind and his wide grin so disarming, a piece of lettuce stuck between two bottom teeth, and Zayn looked ever so obviously happy, a mere hint of joy in his dark brown eyes, and Louis thought, it was good that Zayn acquired two new friends, British friends, since it appeared to make a difference to him even if Louis always seemed to ignore the fact that Niall was not in fact, Scottish. And it was good for all of them, having found each other, and if only, if only this could just go on and bloom into a beautiful friendship, and Lou could tell that it would, given a chance, because through days and days of the time loop, he found just the right dynamic, occasionally interrupting Niall's cheerful chirping with toned down compliments for Zayn, to dilute his morning shyness. The lads brought something out in him, some long-lost funny side, that has, through the years of dull routine, turned to sarcasm and bitterness, and damn, this was routine now, the right fucking routine, and yet everyday they managed to uncover more of him, and he, of them.

So he got off his skateboard now and looked at the Modest's building and sighed, closing his eyes, forcing all the air out of his lungs and he felt tears of despair starting to sting, ready to spill out onto his cheeks as he mumbled half-audibly: "By God, will this end please, by God, will this end? Will someone please, please, please help me, please?"

And right then somebody did stop in front of him, Louis felt it with eyes closed, just some movement coming to an abrupt halt. 

"You alright there?" - he heard an uncertain question even as he was opening his eyes.

A young man stood in front of him, hair cropped short, brown eyes trained intently on Louis' face, eyebrows scrunched together in concern.

"Yeah, yeah" - Louis waived his hand with fatigue, - "Just can't find.. you know..." he didn't finish, dropping his gaze down.

"What can't you find?" - the guy was not satisfied with his response, - "I could help you maybe?"

And a bolt of something, a thought, a feeling, an idea, maybe just plain kick of intuition jolted Louis wide awake as he heard an unmistakably British accent.

"I" - he started, suddenly ready to pounce on the bloke just to prevent him from walking away, - "I -I -I'm looking for the office of Modest & McGee" - he finally exhaled, - "you see, they gave me an interview and it's today, right now actually, and I just can't find the suite! Should be here, right in this building though! Simon Cowell is the name..."

He watched as the bloke's eyes widened, his mouth opened, and he blinked once, twice, before finally stammering:

"Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh yes, of course. Sorry, yes. Yes, it's in this building all right! I didn't know he was having an interview today! When is it, you said?"

"At n-nine" - croaked Louis out, shocked to the core.

"Oh yes, I get it, okay, okay" - blabbered the lad, looking straight at him, - "yes, yes, it is rather hard to find, the building is all brand new and not finished quite yet. Yes, yes... uh... well, I guess I will just take you to him so you do not get lost."

"Oh" - was all that Louis retorted, not moving and vaguely wondering if he might be seeing a dream, - "you know him?"

"I do" - nodded his fellow countryman, - "he is my boss, in fact. We worked together in England for two months, before he was transferred to head this new office here, and well, I guess, I and a couple of others, volunteered to follow him, too. We just arrived, like, literally two and a half weeks ago!"

"Oh" - Louis opened and closed his mouth, like a fish.

"That's bloody terrific that you're getting an interview" - continued the brown-eyed Brit, - "unless you muck it up royally, he will give you the job. They don't interview you unless they think you would fit right in. They're partial to their own" - he waived his hand at Louis' confused face, - "the expats, I mean."

"Oh" - repeated Louis again, dumbstruck.

"You are British, aren't ya?" - the guy frowned his brows a little.

"Yes, yes, uh sorry, Louis!" - Lou stuck his hand out to the bloke, - "I guess I should have introduced myself, seeing how we might be working together!"

"Oh, I hope so", - the lad gave him an eager and strong handshake, - "name's Liam Payne, was a right pleasure to meet you!"

Lou smiled and looked in sheer awe at this unexpected fortune as Liam looked at his watch and prepared to speak again:

"So you're in luck today, Louis, I'd say, it's three minutes to nine! Simon rightfully hates it when we're late! But he texted me earlier that he's stuck in traffic on the highway and expects to be late by no less than thirty minutes, so I just walked out to get myself a tea, and would you imagine it, bumped right into you!"

"Y-yes" - almost whispered Louis, stomach nearly squeezing itself into his throat from the nerves.

"So care to join me then? I'm headed right over there to Tully's" - he pointed at a nearby building. - "Don't worry, you won't miss him! And you kinda look like you could use a coffee!"

"A tea" - corrected Louis and sighed, - "yeah, didn't get much of mine this morning. I don't go to Tully's though ever, Starbucks is usually my thing!"

"Oh" - was all that came out of Liam's mouth and for a second Louis thought that he may have made a major faux pas with such an offhanded comment, but then Liam laughed a good-natured laugh, slapped him on the shoulder, prompting him to walk alongside: "good lad! I do too! Well, I drink homemade tea when I can, but with no Starbucks around, Tully's is what we shall have!"

Louis exhaled as they walked in unusually comfortable silence to the coffee shop.


	10. Chapter 10

But Louis did end up getting a coffee and has thoroughly enjoyed the standard get-to-know-you conversation with his new acquaintance. Although Liam did not burst with bouts of unbridled energy like Niall, that made you want to laugh at him, or hug him or just tackle him and tickle him to death, he was also more open and relaxed than Zayn. He did not smile easily, but his eyes emanated so much of silent support, confidence and genuine interest that Louis quickly decided that he should wish to be in Liam's presence more often whether he did or did not get the job. After they quickly skimmed over their respective stories of growing up in the old country, Liam moved on to another aspect of life, which now connected him to this curious disheveled lad.

"The money is always good, of course" - Liam made a vague gesture with his hand, - "very big money, not going to lie. I was so surprised when I got the email offer for the position that I asked my mother and sisters to read it, just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. I wasn't even sure I was qualified, still not really am. I can only handle questions of British and international law, supposedly, for British citizens living in the US. Yes, I had a few good internships, mostly throughout my years at uni, but nothing came even close to working for Modest! I did a lot of odd jobs after uni, so I only have maybe a year and a half of solid legal experience. But when life throws you such a chance, you don't question it. And I do enjoy working with Simon, he is strict and a bit bizarre, but he's got a good heart. That's why when only after a month of working for Modest, I heard that Simon would have to be transferred, I volunteered to follow him to Seattle. It was..." - Liam waggled his brows, - "a good showing of loyalty, if nothing else, but I did crave an adventure. I love my family, don't get me wrong, and we still talk every day, but it was getting mighty boring for me back in England. And Seattle is no California of course, what with the weather and all, but I attempt to make the best of it" - he smiled, - "that's how it goes."

"And it is a right madhouse here at the moment," - Liam continued as they got up to walk back to the office, - "the firm has enough finances in circulation so you'd think they would set the office space up before moving the employees! We were supposed to be settled in Bellevue until 2 weeks ago, you know? Well, something went wrong and they transferred us here, instead. Only all of the furniture, supplies and other miscellaneous stuff that we ordered was still shipped to the Bellevue address and I spent most of the first week driving a... what do you call it? a U-Haul truck between Bellevue and here, moving desks, chairs, computers, other things that kept showing up over there. And I wasn't even used to the roads yet, couple of times I drove on the wrong side, nearly pissed myself when I saw cars coming right at me. I don't mind the manual work though, it's quite good for a change. Plus my colleague, Andy, you'll meet him if you'll be working with us, has been helping me out so I had quite a nice time, really. Simon has not been so lucky on the other hand. They hired him a paralegal, Caroline, but she worked here for just a week and then didn't show up anymore. Don't know what went on with that one, she seemed like a very nice lady, I would have liked to keep her around."

Louis just nodded, missing pieces of the puzzle falling right into place. 

"You see, that's why I was so surprised that they set your interview up now, although it is good I suppose, you can be on some cases from the very beginning. Beats coming in late and trying to figure out what's been going on. So I hope it works out for you." - Liam added without looking at Louis.

Louis nodded quietly: "Thanks"

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and Louis would not have thought twice about it, had he not noticed that Liam has obviously slowed down his pace and, upon casting him a quick sideways glance, Louis noted him staring intently at the ground and frowning. He thought about asking him if everything was alright, but then Liam bit his lip hard, stopped, turned and placed his right hand on Louis' left, effectively stopping him too. 

"Louis," - he said, frowning and still looking down, tension written in every crease of his face, - "I... I really shouldn't be saying this, and it's really not my place to say this, maybe, only... I feel like I should. I.." - he hesitated again, lifting his eyes and roaming his gaze around Louis' whole face, stopping for mere fraction of a second on Louis' eyes, - "I just wanted to let you know. Before you commit to this job. Because once you do, it will be hard to get out. 'Cause it will suck you in," - he must have noticed Louis' confused stare, because he sighed and attempted again: "What I'm trying to say is that working for Modest is not as wonderful as it seems. You may already know, that as is the case with any associate here, they will pay you a fixed salary, no matter how many cases you handle. And it can be good if there are only a few cases pending, only that's never the case. What is always the case is that you end up working overtime, and I don't mean sitting for a couple of extra hours in the office, I mean spending your whole weekend glued to the computer and papers. And they have all the right in the world not to pay you extra, and so they don't, because it's all in the contract. So you need to be ready for this."

Louis nodded, thinking that what Liam was saying might not even matter to Louis anyway, because Louis did not have all that many friends in Seattle who wanted to hang out with him on the weekends... that is if you didn't count Zayn and Niall who he happened to "just" meet. 

"I think I don't mind the hard work," - he said.

"But that's not all," - Liam continued, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and finally resting his calm, tired eyes on Louis' own, - "they control every minute thing that you do. You can't call a client, you can't send an email or set up a deposition without talking to your supervising partner first. Sometimes I think that it's all this that ends up taking all the extra time of your work. So, you really cannot use your independent judgment. A couple of times, I knew in my heart what the right course of action should be for the client, you know? I was completely convinced. So much so that I went in to Simon to try to discuss it, and all Simon said was that if I wanted to keep my job, I better keep my opinion to myself, that I wasn't aware just much money was at stake here, and he's right of course, because we don't and we won't ever know the whole picture of what's going on, but just... I ended up doing something that I thought was unethical, but they requested me to do it, and I had no other choice really, plans of moving to Seattle already in the making and all, I could not just get up and quit... And now... I don't really know, I just wonder, how many situations like this I could tolerate... ooph" - he exhaled loudly and unevenly and wiped his hand over his forehead, smiling sheepishly, - "Sorry I just.... it's not all bad here, you know, but you're.... you seem like a very good lad to me, so I just... wanted you to know what you'll be getting yourself in... before you start... and all of this is just between us, of course."

Louis smiled out a courteous "thank you" and Liam instantly seemed to deflate in relief, adding a curt single nod and turning to walk back to the building.


	11. Chapter 11

When they walked into the empty elevator, Liam turned to Louis with a good-natured smirk and asked:  
"So what button did you push here when you tried to find us?"

"This one" - Louis added pointing out the square with a number 2.

"Well, obviously" - Liam gave him a quiet laugh, - "that's what we all did in the beginning, because it seems logical, doesn't it? Only.... do you remember a letter L next to the suite number?" - noticing Louis' raised eyebrows, he added, - "Wasn't the suite number more like 202L I mean?"

"Uh..." - Louis searched his memory urgently, - "Yes, to be honest, I think it was, but I didn't think anything of it... I thought it was like a typo or something..."

"But you shouldn't have, perhaps," - Liam smiled, clearly enjoying torturing him, while choosing a "P2" button to press out of the lot, so that the waiting elevator could finally initiate its move. And it did. It moved down.

"Isn't it... second level of parking?" - Louis asked, puzzled.

"It is," - agreed Liam, smug, - "only this building has a little secret. It does have parking underground all right, but only in that exact area of space as it does above, in that cave of the "n", but in the legs of the "n", the building continues with office rooms and such for three more floors underground. So 202L would be on the second floor of the lower level."

"What?" - Louis turned a wide-eyed stare to Liam, - "But won't they have no...windows?"

"They don't, you're right" - Liam laughed a little at the fellow Brit's expression, - "hope you're not claustrophobic, are ya? Well," - he continued, - "the fact is this office we're setting up in the basement will only be on that floor for a few months, as we're having the sixth floor getting fixed up and ready for us, while we continue to expand and hire more help. So we won't be buried here for long."

They exited the lift and were now walking along in the hall, white and bare alike many of the other floors.

"But who would want to work in the basement with no windows?" - Louis wondered gazing at the many nameless doors.

"Don't know," - Liam shrugged, - "I reckon they might eventually be used for storage and archives by someone. Maybe we will continue to use a couple as well, as we acquire more and more files."

Louis was satisfied with that answer and felt his heart jump into his throat as he entered after Liam through the door with a "202L" on it. 

Liam was right, the office was still a "work in progress". Stray panel boards were leaned against the wall, stacked boxes sat in the corner, someone's coffee mug stood on the single chair in the lobby. 

"Ed!" - Liam yelled loudly and Louis was surprised with how his voice didn't reverberate in the open space.

A red-haired bloke showed up almost immediately, grinning widely and wiping his hands on his cargo shorts, eyes blinking incessantly.

"Ed is the resident IT guy" - Liam continued, - "he'll be in charge of maintaining the online database of files. You really wouldn't think that so much of the work is done online, but we have so many clients all over the world, some travelling constantly and requiring automatic email updates, and the like, that Ed's work is essential for keeping the company afloat," - Liam offered the redhead a fond glance, - "and this one here will be working with us after today," - he put his arm on Louis shoulder and Louis felt tension seeping out from his muscles.

"But that doesn't mean that every time your computer freezes, you get to yell out my name," - Ed stuck his hand out to Louis.

Louis burst into laughter before volunteering his name.

"Well, you'll find out all about the database system eventually," - Liam waived his hand dismissively and turned to the redhead again,- "and would you mind cleaning up after yourself at least sometimes, mate?"

"Oh," - Ed's eyes found the mug on the chair and he moved awkwardly to pick it up, - "sorry, it's just a bit too early for me!"

"Been playing WOW all night, were we?" - Liam slapped him on the shoulder with a smirk.

"All better than having a mutual wank with your..."

"Ed!" - Liam squeaked, slapping him on the back, - "now would you go and continue tweaking that modem, please? Simon will have your arse if you're not done by the time he gets here! Oh, wait, and hide this for us, will ya?" - Liam pulled Niall's skateboard from where it was pressed against Louis' hip and thrust it at the red-head.

"Aye aye captain" - Ed smiled at both of them, taking the skateboard like it was every day matter before disappearing in the internal hall of the office. 

"He is a good lad," - Liam said quietly, watching Ed walk away, - "there are some fun people here to work with at least. It is just us here for now, and I think Paul might be in already, I will go check, but Andy will be around a bit later.... Don't worry you'll meet everyone soon enough," - Liam added as though he was completely certain that Louis was sure to get the job, - "Well, if you don't mind, I will leave you here for awhile? Simon will be in soon enough, just go ahead and... uh take this chair?" - Liam pointed to the only chair in the lobby, - "I will go talk to Paul, he wanted me to do some stuff. But if you need anything, just yell for me or Ed, alright? Enjoy the informality of it all while it lasts!" - with that Liam winked and Louis thanked him again before watching him disappear the down the hall. 

He sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair, changed his sneakers for the dress shoes and trained his eyes on the empty windowless wall ahead. All of this was not how he had expected. He expected a top of the line furniture and technology, white-teethed assistant with expensive chocolate candy in a vase on her desk, a stack of professional magazines by the lobby sofa and serious professionals in top-of-the-line suits walking in and out. Instead he got a goofy IT guy and an office that should best be used for storing dusty old books. And he liked that part a lot and it made him relax even as he remembered Liam's cautioning speech. Caffeine was slowly kicking in, and even though Louis almost never drank coffee, not willing to deal with the jitters and fluttering heart beat that it gave him, this time he felt more alert and clear-headed than ever. He rehashed the answers to possible questions in his head, expecting them to be the typical: "How do you feel your skills would be a valuable asset to the company? What are your biggest strengths and weaknesses? How will you diffuse a tense situation with an uncooperative witness?" and came up with even better answers and examples than the ones he usually gave.

So when Simon walked in, Louis got up and greeted him, not that Louis knew that it was him, but the way Simon nodded at him silently and without a hint of surprise upon finding him in the office lead Louis to believe it could not be another employee. Simon asked him to give him a minute, proceeded through the hall, then Louis heard a muffled conversation between Cowell and Liam, concluding with Liam poking his head out from the hall and motioning at Louis with his hand. Louis followed Liam to Simon's office which was in somewhat better condition than those couple with the doors open that Louis had a chance to peek into, finding Ed in one of them, sitting on floor cross-legged with something like an X-box in his hands and looking like a toddler, and Liam squeezed his arm ever so strongly before standing aside and letting him in. So Louis went in smiling politely, his breath just barely hitching in his chest.

And when the not-even-twenty-minute interview was over, Louis shook Simon's hand and exited his office almost deaf and blind with excitement, grinning like a madman at Ed who was still on the floor playing with electronics, almost bumping into Liam conversing with another guy in the hall, both of the lads shutting up at the sight of him, Liam searching his eyes with poorly hidden curiosity, asking something fervently in ecstatic whisper, Louis only able to motion with his hand, lips stretched ear to ear, Liam pouncing on him immediately and squeezing him in a bear hug, the other guy's eyes going wide as his mouth mumbled something, Liam introducing them, then pushing the bloke aside and dragging Louis back to the lobby and sitting him in the chair. But even after the darkness in Louis' field of vision cleared up and his heart was slowing down to its normal rhythm, he still couldn't remember any of the questions that Simon asked, only his last phrase: "Well then, Liam and Andy could really use some help organizing right now, hope you don't mind a bit of a low-level work" to which Louis recalled failing to stop a wide grin from tugging at his mouth and a feverish nod, and he must have looked ever so comical because Simon's lips stretched just a tiny bit as turned his gaze to a ragged heap of papers on his desk, conversation clearly over. 

"Well, I told you, I told you," - Liam was repeating for at least thirty seconds, squeezing Louis' shoulder, genuine smile playing on his face, - "and I would go celebrating with you today, had we not promised these people from craigslist to pick up the living room furniture. See, Andy and I are still setting up our flat and... but how about tomorrow, are you free? Let me get your number!"

Louis gave Liam his number, voice cracking and trembling, getting Liam's business card in return and dropping it in his suit pocket, Liam still smiling so eagerly that you'd think it was him who just passed an interview at one of the biggest law firms in the world, then remembering to fetch Niall's skateboard and shaking Louis' hand in goodbye. 

Louis went out of the building in daze, found the nearest bench and sat on it for a good half an hour, just admiring the softness of the grey sky and the people, walking by him in complete oblivion, that he, Louis William Tomlinson was going to work in this building now, that he was going to be an associate at Modest fucking and McGee, for God's sake, and he nearly shook with excitement at that thought. He walked the full distance to the bus stop, in his uncomfortable dress shoes and all, just clutching Niall's skateboard to his side, and he would have missed it completely and walked by it in his daze, had his bus not pulled up to it right as Louis was passing by. Louis climbed on, almost forgetting to pay the fare, and then reveled for a full minute at this fact too, that even his bus, dammit, didn't make him wait for itself, all things just falling into place in marvelous perfection.

He climbed out on his stop but didn't go straight home and just wondered through the main street of his tiny town on the suburb of Seattle, loitering in an antics store, its senior owner asleep behind the counter, neighbourhood bakery, where he got a whole bag of Danish pastries, the flower shop, where he really just stood and smelled the bouquets of roses whilst the middle aged owner tried her best to talk him into buying a cactus. And then he went home and opened up all the blinds and let in what little light the grey day allowed to seep into his quiet spacious studio, finally feeling free and content. This freedom didn't come so much from the job offer, as from the thought that his quest was completed, that tomorrow will be a Saturday and that he will go back to the life as it once was, not that he even remembered much of that anymore, but he was so fucking grateful to fate for giving him this many chances at getting it right, aware that most people will only get one.

He made himself some delicious eggs and used the energy that suddenly enveloped his whole body to straighten out his flat to perfection, including wiping the dust in between the plastic sheets of the blinds. He blasted some pop music in the background and checked his mail, updated his facebook status, which previously was a gloomy whine about his jobless situation to one just short of a prideful brag and instantly got a dozen likes, then with his phone now charged called his mother and informed her as well, not willing to chance her not signing into Skype today, her reaction then being joyful screaming and virtual kisses, because she was eager to plan Louis' next visit to England now that money would not be a problem. He heard his sisters yelping in the background, and he was smiling with fond, and only now remembering his new friends from the bus. He said his goodbyes and then texted Zayn, the lad responding in a few minutes with muted cheers and Louis just pictured him typing a message, then erasing it and typing anew, doing it a few times over before he got it just right so as to not seem too desperate or clingy. Louis requested his company for the celebration tomorrow, to which Zayn replied immediately with "what time" apparently not even caring where he would have to follow his new British friend. After Zayn, Louis turned to texting Niall, nearly jumping up when his phone started ringing not a minute later, Niall having no such concerns of social etiquette as did Zayn and choosing to call in response to Louis' good news. He chirped in excitement for a full couple minutes, Louis losing most of it to Niall's accent and background noise, before notifying Lou that he just finished an exam and then demanding that Louis tell him all about the interview. They talked for ten minutes at least before Niall had to go somewhere else, Louis barely remembering to thank him for his skateboard and quickly throwing in the invitation to the celebration tomorrow, Niall accepting, of course, of course... 

Then Louis just fell back on the bed, exhausted and dizzy and happy and still in fucking disbelief that it was finally, finally, getting quite good. He wasted the rest of the night on Skype with his best mate in England, the latter, full eight hours ahead in time, having to stay up nearly all night to deal with Louis' excitement. Then Louis thanked whatever God there was for giving him what he wanted, took a relaxing bath and climbed into bed.


	12. Chapter 12

When Louis peeled his eyes open the next morning, his first reaction was confusion and disbelief. The studio was still dark and not that it was surprising, considering his windows faced squarely into the wall of a neighbouring building that blocked most of the light from reaching his flat, but this intense darkness was very familiar from the last couple of months, signifying only one thing - that it was still very early. But Louis didn't think twice of it though, reckoning, that he was, after all waking up at the exact time, down to the minute, for the past many days, so his body must have gotten used to the routine. So even when he checked his clock after laying in bed for about five minutes, he wasn't that surprised that it said 6:52. He trotted to the toilet, failing to clothe his feet with warm slippers, cold hardwood floor waking him up even more. It was only after mulling the thoughts of the upcoming celebration over at least ten times in his head while waiting for the boiling water in the kettle, that Louis instinctively reached his hand out to grab for his phone. He got into the habit of leaving it on the kitchen counter, not that it ever remained there in the morning, but Louis wasn't surprised upon not finding it there as he really was not sure where he placed it last night. He was still unperturbed when he noticed it laying in the heap of cords by the multiplier as he used to leave it there charging quite frequently before and a couple times even during the time loop ordeal. It was only after he opened the fridge to grab the milk carton that Louis screamed.

The lot of neighbourhood bakery pastries that he bought yesterday, were not there though Louis did not remember eating them all. What was there, unfortunately, was the damned sandwich that Louis used to take with him to tempt Niall during the repeated Fridays. So Louis just stood there, blinking and gaping, slowly reaching out to feel the sandwich with one finger, touching it gingerly as though it could break. And yes, it was very real, cheddar cheese clinging to the tightly binding clear wrap. Louis felt his knees go weak and heart pounding in such frenzy that he barely managed to take the four steps to the bed so he could avoid fainting in the kitchen and cracking his head on the side of the counter. 

He wasn't entirely sure if he was actually unconscious, or asleep or just laid in bed with eyes closed, but the next time he checked the clock it was already 10:17. He reached with his hand for the laptop that he always left on the floor by his bed, the device suddenly appearing so heavy in his trembling hand. He prayed out loud for it all to turn out to be a bad dream, a horrible dream, a nightmare, and his eyes kept going blurry as he brought his gaze to the left bottom side of his screen, failing to focus on the date there, or maybe it was Louis who subconsciously did not want to know the date there, could not bear to know the date there, but it was there and he buried his whole face in his hands and started sobbing uncontrollably when he found out what the date was. 

By the end of that day, he wasn't entirely sure how he'd spent it other than his feet hurt a lot so he reckoned he must have gone on a long walk on the bike trail, though he was unsure how many of the 23 miles of its length he had walked. He must have cried a lot too, because his whole face was puffy, lips fat, nose stuffed and eyes red. He vaguely remembered charging his phone and ringing Niall, not sure what he expected from that besides the slightest bit of comfort upon hearing his heavily-accented voice. He mumbled something incoherent, attempting to control his sobs, Niall, clearly puzzled on the other end, the good lad that he was, tried his best to pacify the disconcerted stranger. 

He looked out of his window and stared into the brick wall of the nearby building but what he really wanted to do was jump out of it and break his neck, not that he likely would have succeeded seeing how he lived on the second floor. He really didn't remember much else of this day.

It took one more full day for Louis to start getting back to his normal self if living in a time loop could ever be considered normal. He attempted it one more time, the whole thing over again, including passing the interview, this time rightfully not getting his hopes up, and wasn't too baffled when it didn't work. He read a mountain of resources on the hypotheses for this phenomenon but could not find any definitive instructions for breaking out of the loop. He examined with commendable scrutiny everything that happened to him on this day, which, even besides being repeated, was rather unusual in and of itself. The thing was, Louis did not have a single European friend in Seattle, if you don't count his Belgian neighbour. And suddenly, in one day, he meets three, Zayn, Niall and Liam, four if you count Ed, who seemed like a nice guy from what little he saw of him. Two of them, Zayn and Niall, were on the same bus, completely unaware of each other, but once beginning to talk, connecting immediately, as they did with his own self. But what Louis really wanted to think, was that if there was a way out of the time loop, he wished that getting on that bus and meeting Liam in front of the Modest building would be part of it, because he really would not have tolerated going on with his life and not getting to know those lads. And very soon he was thinking, that really, maybe he could live with passing up this opportunity at Modest, if only he could keep those lovely blokes an integral part of his life for the years to come. 

He thought all these things over the next weekful of Fridays, having given up on the idea of finding a way out of the loop since he re-watched the famous movie and compared it with his own life. So he let another person ride the 26, even though he thought at the moment it was his only chance of making it to the interview, thereby meeting Zayn on the next one, he paid attention and subsequently fed his sandwich to the starved uni kid, even as he himself was keeling over from hunger, and as for Liam, well, Louis didn't really know what he did to deserve meeting Liam, other than he finally admitted defeat and voiced out loud his desperate need for help. And if there was someone else he was supposed to meet, somewhere else that he was supposed to go, something else that he was supposed to do _right _, he didn't know and couldn't even imagine what it was because there was a million things that he could do with the rest of that Friday, and he was pretty sure that he'd done most of them.__

He managed the next couple of weeks as best as he could, procuring several books and distracting himself with fiction, getting acquainted with some of the more obscure movies and music, but the forced vacation was getting tiresome and what really bothered him the most was that on his Friday nights he was still alone, because you really could not count those random people that he ground against in the clubs without first asking their names or caring to even take a good look at their faces. He struck up conversation with several of them afterwards, knocking around Seattle half-drunk, lips raw and bruised, but it never led anywhere, and the funny thing, Louis did not want it to lead anywhere, be it romantic or not, not like he wanted with Niall and the Brits. On days when he starved for real human interaction, he tried visiting Zayn's bookstore, which, conversely to how Louis imagined it, turned out to be huge and sold music records as well, so he watched Zayn from afar, being tugged left and right by numerous customers, poor lad fidgeting and incessantly blinking his big brown eyes. Lou also almost intrusively invited himself to follow Niall around the uni after his exam, to which Niall, the unassuming kind lad that he was, agreed without questions, but it turned out to be a nightmare, the Irish lad having so many friends and acquaintances that, before Louis could remember the name of any one of them, Niall was already introducing another. And maybe even this would have been OK for some time, just hanging around this walking and talking sunshine, but Niall had long-standing plans for a someone's private goodbye party in the evening that Louis really could not just barge in on. He tried knocking around Modest as well, hoping to help Liam out with organizing the office, but Liam ended up having an actual legal assignment from Paul, though Louis did have a few good conversations with Ed, both of them sitting on the floor of the office, Ed fiddling with odd-looking gizmos, telling Louis some of the weirdest stories he's ever heard with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, and he even could be prompted for different ones every time, so Louis just sat there with his mouth open, not caring what Simon or Paul or even Liam would think of him should they see him this way.


	13. Chapter 13

If you think of it really, a mentally sound human being can only take so many days repeating in a loop before having to relive it becomes harder than the acceptable bottom line. With 24 hours in which he could do anything he wanted, Louis has done a lot of things that he reasonably could, but most of those were the ones that did not require advanced booking. He travelled as far as he could and forced himself to see several tourist attractions in various parts of the States, largely unwilling to bother attempting to get to Europe because of the huge time difference. And it was all well and good, but it barely held his interest, mostly exhausting him to the point that it was not worth it. Louis was not a loner by nature, in fact he wondered how in the world he's managed to have lived for this long by now, all alone in that big studio and how he allowed himself to lose all his childhood friends and not have it in him again to make some new ones. He reckoned it happened gradually, mostly at uni, and especially later, at the American college where he continued his studies, and where, whilst learning the American way to be a lawyer, he learnt to demand rather than to ask, that money and prestige bought you friends and got you far in life, that people were not nearly as genuine as they seemed and that really, the only one you could rely on in this life was yourself. And Louis did not welcome these new lessons with open arms, but he accepted the knowledge nonetheless, his jokes becoming more and more cruel, the people who he could view as potential friends fewer and fewer because they did not satisfy his standards for social standing, until he could count all of his hobbies on the fingers of one hand whilst listening to the rain in his empty flat on the weekends.

So when _that _particular thought intruded into his mind, it didn't shock him, in that he's heard of it _being done _, of course, though never considered it for himself but then he's never been in a situation quite like this one. And so he mulled it over thoroughly for a few days, leaning more and more towards accepting it as an option, whilst desperation ate at him more and more, until one afternoon, sitting on the floor in the quiet of his flat, he just couldn't wait to do it, no matter how.____

The night of that same day he talked for a long time with his mother, requesting to put each of his sisters on the phone as well, attempting to sound as calm and collected as he could, even as he realized the absurdity of his own behaviour in light of what he was about to do. He also skyped with his best friend and several others, taking in their faces, their voices and their words. He walked the quiet streets of his small town, staring at the little houses and taverns, just trying to fix it all on the insides of his eyelids and take it with him wherever it was that he'd go. He came home calm and collected and ready and he went to bed early, just laying there, staring at the ceiling, untouched tea by the side of his bed, listening to the sound of his own breathing and imagining the events of the next day. He was completely sure that he couldn't leave having not seen all of the lads again at least one more time because if there was anything he wanted to think about as he went, it would be their faces, their eyes and their smiles. He was just going to enjoy it as much as he could. 

In the morning, he followed the steps of his usual routine then, because he only had so much time before seeing Niall and Zayn on the bus, and as his mind was swimming with thoughts, his limbs collected his stuff for him and carried him out to the Starbucks. He stood there quietly, barely aware of where he was, enveloped in Eleanor's suffocating perfume and nearly forgot to order at the counter until the loud lawyer behind him gently prodded him in the back. He ordered his favourite tea and he thought of the little crying Jennifer and how it would have been horrible for the poor 4-year-old child if it were her who was stuck in and aware of the time loop, having to be terrified but still dragged to the dentist every single day. And he wondered if there existed at least one person in the world who could have lived the same day over and over and had enough in his life to do so without wanting to take a razor to his wrists like a right coward. 

He was still picturing all that in his mind as his name was called out and he grabbed his tea, mumbled a "thanks" and turned to exit the shop, when his shoulder collided so hard with the arm of the person behind him, that it sent him flying forward, foot tripping either over the stranger's foot or his own and he would have faceplanted on the hard tiled floor had he not stuck his leg out at the last moment, feeling his knee strain hard in protest, the lid disengaging from the cup, hot liquid spilling all over the floor and sloshing onto his shirt. He felt warm tears sting immediately at his eyes because his neck burnt where he dowsed it with nearly-boiling water, and he mentally slapped himself for forgetting about that bloke. But as he lifted his hand off the floor to try and get up from this embarrassing near-split position, he didn't curse the stranger who seemed unacquainted with the concept of personal space and therefore could have contributed to this unfortunate accident but rather himself, because he became suddenly and painfully aware that it really was his own fucking fault that he landed on the goddamn floor, because it was him and only him who had the opportunity to remember about and avoid this situation just as he did all those other times when he slugged, hit, prodded and spilt on this oblivious stranger just because he could, and what would the lad think of him if he could remember all these things Louis did to him, just for standing there, where Louis could not see him and being in Louis' way when Louis had better things on his mind than remember about him, and just for fucking existing alongside Louis, who apparently was the kind of person who could not even contain his anger and frustration, much more admit to himself that he was in the wrong!

And all these thoughts rushed through his mind like a stream of hot water, and the one tiny tear that escaped his eye as he was still on the floor was not from pain of the burning skin or the thought that curious strangers were now undoubtedly crowding around him at this very moment, but at the embarrassment with his own arrogant self. And so before he knew it, his mouth was overflowing with jumbled words, as he felt weakness seep through his legs collapsing him to the floor, onto his knees, right in the puddle of spilt tea.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am so, so bloody sorry, I should have... and I have... and I... I'm such an idiot..."

But his apology was suddenly interrupted as he felt one big hand grab him under the armpit, the other placed awkwardly over his ribs, the force pulling him up to his feet, someone's warm breath ghosting over the back of his neck. And even as he was turning on his unsteady feet, he heard a deep voice, just as mumbling and mixed up as his own:

"No, no, it was me, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I was standing way too close and I wasn't thinking, I was... I just..."

The bloke shut up as Louis turned to him fully, eyes finding the other lad's eyes. And they were that rare colour of green, and warm, and half-lidded with shyness, trained on the floor, his face soft and somewhat puffy from sleep, and beautiful and enticing somehow. Lush curly hair framed the lad's face and Louis just stood and stared at him for what must have been more than appropriate amount of time, having forgotten about the open cup, and that his fingers and chest were scalded and hurt, because the lad lifted his big eyes to him, gaze soft with genuine concern:

"Are you.. you okay?" - he stuttered out.

Louis just nodded unable to turn away. He frantically searched his memory for a clue because the lad seemed so familiar, so hard to miss, and for Louis especially, because as much as he has given up on his personal life over the years, he still noticed beautiful people, and his gaze must have turned quite obvious and obscene by now because the corners of the lad's mouth went up slightly, his face changing just a little and that unmistakable glint appearing in his eyes. And Louis literally yelped in his mind, because he knew this glint, it was ingrained in him, he was trained to recognize it since his teenage years, and he was only human, albeit one who teetered in the doorway of the open closet never quite having the guts to step over the line unless it involved the dance floor and nameless strangers who would be gone in the morning to never come back again, but that didn't stop him from wanting something as simple as seeing a sleepy gorgeous lad looking at him, even after he's just made a right fool of himself, just like this...

"Harry!" - a girl's voice called out and the bloke nearly jumped, apparently just as lost in Louis' eyes as Lou was in his, turning awkwardly with his whole upper body, grabbing the cup but quickly returning his gaze back to Louis who didn't even budge since the lad placed him back upright on his feet. 

"Do you... want my tea?" - the lad asked hopefully, already thrusting his cup right at Louis, - "Or I will get you another one? It really was my fault after all..."

"Would you all move aside please?" - a young girl in an apron requested, coming at them with a mop, - "I gotta clean up this mess you all made."

"Oh, I'm sorry," - blurted Louis out quickly, snapping out of it, feeling the blush of embarrassment spread over his cheeks, and proceeding right to the door, stomach turned upside down with butterflies, hand shaking his now-empty cup. He stopped abruptly to toss it in the trash, an afterthought even as he opened the door to exit, and a warm body, with which Louis had become literally painfully acquainted, collided with his back, big hand grabbing gently onto his forearm. 

"But for God's sake," - Louis exhaled as they exited the coffee shop, his wits somewhat back about him, unable to hold in his embarrassed grin, - "what are you, a human magnet? And how do you manage to not spill that thing?" - he pointed to the lad's tea.

"I'm careful," - Harry retorted, looking down, warm blush spreading over his cheeks, making him so much more innocent and soft, that Louis mentally agreed, that damn right, most likely, he was, careful and nice and sweet and a good fucking person because he apologized and lifted him up and fucking offered him his own tea, and...

"Do you live around here? Close? Because if you don't, we can really go to mine and I will lend you a shirt, because yours is... right here," - and Harry fucking reached his hand out and touched him where the notch in his breastbone would be, so gently and gingerly that something must have showed in Louis' eyes because Harry quickly pulled his hand back, but didn't move, green eyes still trained on Louis' face.

"N-no," - Louis stammered in response, - "I.. I mean it's alright, but I.. uh.. uh... d-do you work today? Oh no, I mean, where are you going? I mean now?" - he blurted and nearly fainted from the uncanny embarrassment of it all, unable to even guess as to how stupid he must have sounded.

"Oh nowhere" - Harry appeared completely unfazed, reminding him much of Niall, - "I'm on my day off... hah, first one in a long time, actually.... so I..." - he waived his hand, struggling with words, - "I'm just not used to being off, and I got up so early so I just came here thinking I'd get a tea and maybe figure something out to do..."

"Where do you work?" - Louis interrupted him before he could refrain from such rudeness.

"Oh at the Pacific Science Center," - Harry smiled softly, - "We are about to open up a new exhibit and I..."

"I've never been there," - could not contain himself Louis, intrigued, and nearly ill with impatience from the desire to know all there was to the curly haired lad, as they stood just outside the Starbucks door, through which the witnesses of the spilt tea debacle were exiting in haste to get to their respective jobs, all the while two young lads appeared frozen in time and space, even as the world around them went on its merry way... - "I should like to go... I'm not into science but if..." - and there he stopped himself, unable to continue, because this is not how things went, and this is not who he was, he knew the things to say, the cool game to play and this was not him at all, barriers crashing down and soul spilling raw and bare before a lanky lad in a Ramones t-shirt under a dark jean jacket.

"I'll come with you, " - Harry volunteered almost matching Louis' eagerness with his own, although he was either unaware of it or completely unashamed, - "I mean if you want... but where were you going?"

"I was...I have this interview... or I... but.." - his mind was going a mile a minute, processing it all, trying to recalculate his course of action but coming up empty because the lad's gaze was on his face and his own knees trembled slightly and the thoughts of time loop, the bus, the office, himself in a bathtub with a razor were all mixing up together in such wild tornado that all Louis blurted out instead was:

"Aren't you British?"

"From Cheshire," - Harry smiled curiously, amused at the sudden turn in the line of their conversation but apparently happy to follow it wherever it went, - "we came here about eight years ago. My mum married an American and we ended up here and I..."

Jumping on the opportunity of Harry's pause where he was struggling with words again, Louis interjected:

"And you have many friends? From England? I mean here, in Seattle? You know many Brits?"

"Some" - Harry waived his hand around, - "my mum knows people, I... I guess I've never really thought of them as British or not, I have a couple French and one German and one..."

But Louis couldn't wait that long and since Harry either didn't mind or was already used to people constantly interrupting his slow and rambling speech, Louis cut him off again with his own stuttering:

"I... it's just I have to meet some people.. right now.. on the bus. They're British.. or, I mean, one is Irish... you'll see really, and then there's Liam too, only he's working, but maybe you can just, while I...," - he exhaled, taking his gaze away from Harry's wide eyes, because then he might just have enough brain power left to formulate his plea: "what I mean to say, would you like to just... take a bus with me and knock around Seattle? I know this is sudden and...and..., but if you've got nothing to do and neither do I, we could... Just do whatever, you know, maybe take a ferry or watch a movie and get some food, or..." - a thought entered his mind that maybe it would have been more appropriate and less awkward if he just asked Harry for his number, only if he did, he would not remember it and he would have nothing to write it down with and then he would have to wait until tomorrow to see him again, and that was too long, too fucking long, and...

"...that would work out then."

"W-what?" - Louis asked, troubled. He absent-mindedly registered that he missed all of Harry's speech whilst he was wrestling with his own fear and doubts.

"I said, sure, that would be nice and I also left my cell phone at work last night, so if we could swing by and pick it up, that would be great and it's just down by the..." - repeated Harry, sheepishly amused.

"Well, then, let's go now, I know where the Science Center is,"- Louis chimed in and he tugged Harry by the sleeve, amazed both by the lad's pliancy, his own boldness and the way it seemed so fucking natural and easy to tug this stranger by his arm, and they were walking, fast, towards the bus stop, Harry rambling on, something about his family, Louis not listening, sure that he could ask him later to repeat the story all over again, and that he _fucking would _, and wouldn't even think twice about it or find it annoying, and Louis was wondering just how the hell this thing was happening at all, the two of them walking side by side, so close that their hands were _fucking brushing _once in awhile, and it felt so good and so right and also familiar and, well, maybe they were already connected on some impossible to understand level, because after all with how many times Louis has slammed his _body _into Harry's in the damned Starbucks, it couldn't be that Louis-shaped imprint was not already stamped in permanently onto the lanky frame of this beautiful lad...______


	14. Chapter 14

Louis was still at a loss as to how he could reconcile meeting Harry with his previously made set of plans, but as Harry and he climbed onto the bus, Louis walked past Niall on auto-pilot and plopped into to his usual seat next to Zayn, Harry conveniently settling in the empty seat across the aisle from him, and Louis could not even stop himself before he asked Zayn for his phone, and he called the taxi as usual, only afterwards turning to Harry with a quickly-thought up: "This way you'll just go fetch your mobile while I finish up with the interview, it will not take too long" to which Harry nodded: "It's a good idea." And Louis was concerned just for a little while when pulling out his sandwich and apologizing to people around him, that Zayn would not start talking if Louis wasn't alone, but he did, and Louis deflated in relief looking over at Harry, who was ever so slightly amused, perhaps remembering Louis' earlier offhanded comment about meeting some friends on the bus, and if he thought Louis was crazy or psychic, he didn't show it, not one bit, being his rambly and slow-talking self even as Niall joined them in the conversation. And if Louis thought it was perfect before, himself, Niall and Zayn conversing on this bus, he sure was wrong because it was better with Harry. Harry and Niall connected immediately, laughing like school girls at the stupidest things, all the while Louis could give the more timid Zayn all the attention and support that he needed. Louis barely even remembered to ask Niall for his skateboard and to prompt them all to exchange phone numbers before leaving the bus, noting in sheepish surprise that Niall gave him just one piece of paper, obviously assuming that Louis and Harry would share...

They exited at the more-than-familiar 24th and Cumberland, Louis watching with fond through the window as Zayn and Niall continued talking, Zayn leaning over the Irish lad, arm hooked around the pole, Niall lifting his baby blue eyes up, mouth open in laughter. He then turned back to Harry, the lad waiting patiently next to him, standing a bit too close as usual, but not like Louis minded it now. Harry reached his hand out without warning and before Louis could wonder what it was for, fixed his shirt collar and tie just so, so that the stain left by the tea which was quite faint already, now that it had all dried up, would not be visible at all. At that point Louis stopped caring if his smile reflected all that he by now thought of Harry as he directed him to the taxi, asking him to just wait at the Science Center until Louis was there to fetch him. Harry nodded, eyes beaming with warmth, and Louis just wondered in sheer awe if it would always be easy like this with this bloke, who he barely knew but loved a little already. And as he was riding on Niall's skateboard, he realized that he really wasn't going to the damn interview, he was going to that building to meet Liam and Ed, and that if, in the odd chance, the time loop was ever going to break, Liam would surely remain his good friend, and that he would introduce Liam to the rest of his other new friends, whether he would end up being his colleague or not. 

The interview went just as swimmingly as before, Simon offering him the job if he wanted it, Louis just nodding and allowing Simon to think that he did, and he chatted briefly with Liam, inviting him to the celebration tomorrow, whether tomorrow would happen or not, before making his way via bus to the Science Center. Harry must have seen him coming or something, because he burst out through the doors when Louis was walking up to the building, and he nearly ran before tripping over his own big feet and ending up in Louis' arms, Louis laughing so much that his stomach hurt, Harry taking it all to mean that he passed and squeezing Louis so hard that Louis thought he would faint.

And they did exactly that which Louis proposed earlier that they would, just knocked around Seattle, riding the Ferris Wheel, eating lunch, and taking the ferry, some of Louis' more biting and off-handed comments lost on Harry and his sweet disposition, and soon Louis was ready to cry because of how much he loved this fucking grey city with its chilly springs and cold salty air, because it made Harry sit way too close, effectively pressed into his side when they were having dinner at Ivar's on the pier and by the end of the day Harry's head was on his shoulder and it felt like it fucking belonged there, if this feeling could even be described, and Louis wanted to kiss him so much but opted to hold his cold hand instead, Harry sighing with his whole body and only nuzzling closer and it was then that Louis realized, thoughts of razor nowhere close to his mind, that if this Friday would have to be repeated again, or hundreds of times, or for the rest of eternity, that he would do it and fucking welcome it eagerly, without any reservations or doubts, in fact he could very well just remain in this very moment forever, Harry's warm breath tickling his uncovered neck and Harry's fingers tangled securely with his own...


	15. Epilogue

Louis woke up in a lovely state of tranquility, taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts and remember the previous night. Having sufficiently tired themselves out in Seattle, Harry and he made their way back to the suburbs, discovering in the process that they lived mere twenty walking minutes away from each other. Louis invited Harry to come over, or, rather, Louis said that they should perhaps get indoors and grab some tea if they didn't want to catch a cold and Harry just started to follow him as Lou took the familiar road home. There, Harry immediately ventured into the kitchen taking possession of the kettle like he owned it while Louis used Harry's phone to text Zayn and call Niall, putting the latter on speaker phone and the Irish lad yelled uncontrollably in excitement, still barely understandable over the background noise. Then Louis changed into more comfortable clothes and set up the movie, nodding in approval because _of course _Harry has already fixed up their teas and he _fucking poured Louis' into Louis' favourite mug _like he knew which one it was, and they laid on the covers, cuddling lazily because both were exhausted to no end, and the last thing Louis remembered thinking as he laid his head on Harry's shoulder was that maybe he should have moved a bit faster and kissed him, but he reveled in their innocent affection so much, that he did not want to spoil it, deciding that he can always kiss him tomorrow should he so wish.____

So now Louis rolled over in bed, taking in its emptiness and buried his face in the pillow for a moment. He wasn't this sad that Harry wasn't there, because he will see him again in a mere half-hour if he dressed and got ready as usual, but because he would much rather be able to just ring Harry and invite him over or go on a walk to the neighbourhood bakery and just continue it with him exactly from where they left off, and of course, he'd rather not go through the ridiculous incident at the Starbucks, although he'd easily do even more embarrassing things if it meant he would have a chance to get to know Harry. 

So he whined ever so slightly before he slung his feet off the bed, taking in the darkness of his studio in these early hours of the morning, immediately hitting the cold floor and wincing, suddenly remembering that he didn't even own slippers anymore, having thrown the old ones out after the sole of one of them ripped off completely, and he snorted at his own idiocy, but not nearly as loud as he gasped after he heard a quiet:

"Are you getting up already?"

He turned, stunned and forgetting to breathe and noticed Harry's figure huddled in the chair at his tiny kitchen table.

"W-what are you doing?" - was all he could croak after he blinked a few times furiously and noted that Harry's apparition failed to disappear, slowly realizing, meanwhile, that he was, in fact, still wearing a baseball shirt that he pulled on after they came in last night.

"Well, just waiting for you to wake up, I guess," - Harry retorted and, noticing what probably was Louis' completely dumbstruck expression, offered, - "last night you fell asleep on me... and I mean, literally..., while we were watching Saturday Night Fever... and I didn't want to wake you up and make you lock your door as I left, so I figured I'd stay... that you wouldn't mind... and well this morning, I just woke up early as usual, I mean I do that for work all the time, and you were asleep and I didn't want to leave 'cause your door would be unlocked and all and...."

"Come here" - Louis requested thinking he might experience a heart failure if Harry didn't stop talking, looking so natural folded into a small chair in his tiny kitchen. Harry responded eagerly to the demand, sitting down gingerly on the side of the bed, but Louis motioned for him to lay down, and Harry did that too, because of course he would, and when Louis could finally put his arm over Harry's chest and feel his heart beating, he found himself capable of taking a deep heavy breath again. 

He was still giddy with disbelief and he promised himself to think long and hard as to what Harry's presence in his flat this morning could mean in regards to the end of the time loop ordeal, but he would do it if and when Harry isn't right next to him, but for now, he bit Harry gently on the shoulder and noted:

"But what you're giving me are only excuses for why you stayed. And I'd rather know the real reasons."

"Not sure I could put that in words, to be honest," - Harry replied after slight hesitation, his face turned to Louis', breath ghosting over his nose, - "Not sure I've ever talked about those things with anyone, because I don't think I've ever done something like this.... or... felt something like this before..."

"Well, then... why don't you show me?" - Louis offered in whisper.

And so, Harry did.

And feeling Harry's soft lips on his own, Louis thought for a moment that if anyone ever asked him again what he would do if he had only one day left to live, Louis would probably smack them across the face for starters, but then wouldn't hesitate not one bit with the answer.


End file.
